Red Ryder
by Donnamour1969
Summary: 1st story in my Season 3 AU series. Murder. Fog.  Sounds like a fun Thanksgiving for Jane and Lisbon, eh? Plenty of humor, mystery and some Jisbon love. Rated T/M for adult content No copyright infringement intended.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Wow! I am overwhelmed by the warm welcome I received on this site for my episode tag, "Red Hot." You are all too kind! Thanks to all who reviewed/favorited/alerted. Your encouragement has led me to this story. My first chapter isn't as long as I usually like to write. I'd like your input before I proceed. I'm having a lot of fun writing for this new fandom—hope you have fun reading. ;)

Chapter 1

Teresa Lisbon looked out of her office window and sighed. It's wasn't as if she had any actual plans today, but she would much rather be at home watching _A Christmas Story _marathon and popping in a turkey TV dinner, then, maybe watching some football later. Instead, she allowed her team to take the day off to be with their families, knowing that it would be unlikely that anything major would happen on Thanksgiving anyway. Besides, she knew their numbers if need be; no sense that they should spoil their plans waiting at the office by the phone.

But now, having been working three hours on the never-ending paperwork required by the State of California, she wished for the millionth time that she was on speaking terms with her brothers so that she could have an excuse to take this day off, for once. But those personal musings didn't belong in the office, and she just needed to toughen up and quit feeling sorry for herself. At least she wasn't completely alone, however.

Patrick Jane apparently hadn't had plans either, and she was touched by his immediate acceptance when Hightower had asked for volunteers to stay here with her. If there was anyone else more pathetically alone on the holidays, it was Jane. Still, she was glad for his company, such as it was. With no one to analyze or annoy, he had crawled onto her couch about an hour before, lying prone in his trademark semi-sleeping state.

She looked fondly at the head of blond curls on the armrest of her office couch. An empty tea cup sat on the lamp table beside him. He looked so handsome and somehow innocent in sleep, those long eyelashes of his resting just above his cheeks. It was the only time she ever saw him completely at peace, and she felt a little flush of warmth that he could find it lying on her couch. But she couldn't afford to think of him in that way, given his complicated past, not to mention the mess with Van Pelt and Rigsby's romantic relationship last year. She'd seen what breaking the rules could do to one's career, and she wasn't about to make that same mistake herself. She sighed again at the twinge of loss that brought her.

"Your heartfelt sighs are disturbing my sleep, Lisbon," said Jane, eyes still closed. She had jumped a little, even though she knew he slept like a cat, with the uncanny ability to become instantly alert.

She grinned because he couldn't see, and tried to keep the smile out of her voice. "Go sleep on _your _couch then. Some of us are actually working here."

Letting all pretense of sleeping fall away, Jane sat up with a grin, planting his scuffed brown shoes on the floor in front of him.

"Hunger makes you cranky. Let's go early to that buffet down the street. Turkey and all the trimmings. That'll cheer you up."

She _was_ a little hungry. Jane, she knew, was _always_ hungry. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was a little after eleven, and maybe an early lunch could be justified, given the fact that there'd likely be a line at one of the few restaurants in this part of town that was open today. She gave him another _heartfelt _sigh that was strictly for his benefit, got up, and grabbed the jacket off the back of her chair. His eyes lit up in joyous anticipation as he went to hold the door open for her.

She'd just grabbed her car keys when the phone rang.

"Don't answer it," said Jane, as if knowing that whoever was on the other end stood between him and pumpkin pie.

She gave him a smirk. "This is why we're here today, remember?" She picked up the phone. "Lisbon."

"Agent Lisbon, this is Brock Martin, Solano County Sherriff's Department. I hate to bother you on Thanksgiving, but we have a Fish and Game warden here, found dead of a gunshot wound. Fish and Game makes it clearly your jurisdiction."

Lisbon sighed for real. "Okay. Where are you exactly?"

"You know Grizzly Island, south of Fairfield?"

"Yeah."

She watched in slight amusement as Jane's face visibly fell from happy to sullen as his fears had been realized. Martin gave her directions that she jotted down carefully on a notepad.

"We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Sorry again, Agent."

"Well, murder dosen't take a holiday." She gave Jane a dirty look for his eye rolling. Okay, it sounded hokier coming out than it had in her mind.

"I told you not to answer it," said Jane when she hung up. He went back to her couch in defeat.

"Stop pouting. Feel sorry for _me_. Now I have to call Hightower."

She punched in the CBI director's home number. Lisbon cringed at the background noises of children, laughter, and conversation as a man—Hightower's husband—answered the phone.

"This is Teresa Lisbon with the CBI. Sorry to do this, but I need to speak with Agent Hightower please."

The man laughed. "I knew it was too good to be true. Just a minute…"

"Lisbon? What's up?"

"Ma'am, there's been a murder over on Grizzly Island. Fish and Game warden. The sheriff who called didn't sound very urgent. I really think Jane and I can handle this. We'll call for backup if the locals aren't enough."

Heartfelt sighs were apparently catching. "Is that what your gut feeling is? You're not just playing martyr here, are you? We're CBI. Thanksgiving murders are par for the course."

"No, ma'am. I mean, I know when to call for help. Just letting you know what was going on."

"Okay, but keep me updated. Don't be afraid you're interrupting. Given all the kids driving me nuts around here, I may need a break later."

"Sure thing. Thank you, Boss. And, I am sorry we had to bother you."

"That's why I'm here, Lisbon."

Lisbon hung up and met Jane's eyes. He was shaking his head at her. He hated to see her kowtow to their boss. She hated it too, but the other woman made her nervous as hell.

"Oh, shut up. Let's get this over with." She opened her office door herself, letting it close behind her before Jane had even risen to his feet.

Half an hour later, they were midway to Fairfield when Lisbon realized the company SUV needed gas. They pulled into a 7-Eleven, and in typical fashion, Jane ran inside the convenience store while Lisbon gassed up the car. He returned with a small paper sack and two insulated cups.

"What's in there?"she asked, buckling up.

"Lunch. Turkey sandwiches."

"That's just cruel." She watched him pull out two small, pre-packaged deli meat subs, along with a bag of potato chips.

"See, turkey and potatoes," he said ironically. "Just imagine you never answered that phone and this is our Thanksgiving feast." He unwrapped a sandwich and took a big bite, continuing with his mouth full: "Behold, the power of suggestion." He closed his eyes, feigning rapture at the turkey that no doubt tasted of cellophane. "I can feel the tryptophan already bombarding my system."

"Give me the damn sandwich, Jane, and quit making me feel worse. You didn't have to volunteer to work today. As I recall, the rest of the team each invited you to their homes. You could be breaking the wishbone with Rigsby about now."

After she merged back onto the freeway, Jane unwrapped the top half of her sub and put it into her hand. The coffee he'd bought drifted tantalizingly from the console cup holder.

"You wound me, Lisbon. Didn't you want me here?"

She took a moment to actually think about that question. On one hand, being in the office alone on Thanksgiving held absolutely no appeal, and worse—Hightower might have stayed herself if no one else had volunteered. On the other hand, Jane was amusing and usually challenging company. She also cared about him more than she should, and didn't want him by himself somewhere on a holiday, so, in the end, her answer was:

"Of course I wanted you here. The others would just be sulking and whining the whole time."

"Awww," he said, believing he understood her completely now. It was an annoying habit of his. "You pity me. You think I'd be all by myself, maybe crying in my tea, contemplating doing myself bodily harm."

"No—" she protested, even though he'd nailed her thoughts exactly.

"Yes. It's true, and you know it. Let me reassure you, Lisbon, if I had wanted to kill myself, it would have happened long before now, and not over spending Thanksgiving alone."

His words, though terrible to contemplate, were somehow a comfort to her, and she didn't want to admit to herself that the idea of him committing suicide made her heart drop into her stomach. But she didn't think she'd ever stop worrying about him, and though he'd once referred to _her_ as damaged, her problems with raising her little brothers and burying an alcoholic father didn't hold a candle to having a serial killer butcher his family.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I do try not to handle you with kid gloves. But you know as well as I the statistics regarding depression and the holidays…"

"I'm not depressed. Well, not any more than usual." He gave her his most charming smile to prove it.

"So," she ventured, slightly changing the subject, and finding once again that she wasn't totally immune to that devastating smile of his. "What _would_ you be doing today if you weren't coming with me to investigate a murder?"

"Well, I did have a date with some barbiturates and a noose…"

"Not funny." But she laughed because he did. "No, really. What?"

"Well, I just bought a book of the complete stories of _Sherlock Holmes, _and I would have read that and popped a turkey pot pie into the microwave for dinner. Then, I would have tuned in to _A Christmas Story _marathon on channel five."

His day alone sounded much like hers might have been. "I love that movie," she said, smiling a little that they had that in common.

"Then," he continued, "I likely would have snuck back to the office and fallen asleep on my couch, waiting for you to sneak in too."

He shot her a knowing look, and she couldn't deny how predictable she was. He grinned when she didn't contradict him. He loved being right.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they finished their sandwiches and chips. Lisbon sipped her coffee and then watched in fascination as Jane removed a tea bag from his wallet and dunked it into the hot water he'd bought for himself.

"Most men carry condoms in their wallets," she couldn't resist teasing.

He laughed rather nervously, and she was shocked beyond belief when she saw Patrick Jane blushing. He swallowed and tried for nonchalance.

"Well, it's hard to prepare tea exactly like I like it at a convenience store, so at least I could bring my favorite tea bag with me."

"Uh-huh." She took pity on him and didn't tease him further, but the image of him flushing with embarrassment kept a small smile on her face the rest of the drive.

TBC

A/N: Well, what do you think? Next chapter will be more from Jane's point of view. Can't wait to try my hand at that. And please, if you decide to review, log in so I can respond to you. I love to say thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Your great reviews really inspire me! The following chapter has a little more exposition than I normally like, but I trimmed it down as much as I thought I could. It was necessary in places though to set the scene and hopefully give you a feel for how it really is on this island—a real place where my parents lived for ten years. I hope I captured the mood successfully—it is a wonderful place. Happy Thanksgiving to all my US readers!

Chapter 2

The closer they got to Grizzly Island, the foggier it became. Lisbon had to slow down to about forty-five and flip on her lights to avoid hitting or being hit on the freeway. The slower speed and the heavy traffic for Thanksgiving put them at the Fish and Game office an hour later than she'd hoped. Sherriff Brock Martin greeted them along with another game warden who introduced himself as Lyle Stevens. Martin had the typical appearance of most of the sheriffs they dealt with—late fifties, balding, middle-age paunch. Stevens was likely in his thirties, sporting the green uniform of California Fish and Game, and didn't seem to be thrilled to be working on Thanksgiving.

_Join the club, _thought Lisbon.

They climbed aboard a Fish and Game speedboat and Stevens began driving them down the eerily quiet Montezuma slough. No wind blew to dissipate the fog, adding to the strangely claustrophobic feeling. Everyone spoke in hushed voices

"The body was found out near The West Wind Duck Club," the Sherriff informed them. "Shotgun. 12-guage, I'm guessing. Number four birdshot. The club is a couple miles down the slough from here. I left a deputy and another warden to guard the crime scene until you had a chance to look at it."

"Was he in the water?" Lisbon asked, pulling her navy blue pea coat more tightly around her against the damp fog.

"No. Just off the road. The caretaker of the club found him this morning."

"Were there hunters at The West Wind?" asked Jane. He wasn't dressed for the occasion, only wearing a suit coat since it had been in the sixties in Sacramento. Leave it to Teresa the Girl Scout to have a warm jacket in the back of the SUV. So he huddled closer to Lisbon on the bench seat in the rear of the boat, and when she didn't seem to mind when his chilled leg pressed against her warm one, he pressed even closer. He told himself it was just for warmth, that the shiver he felt had to do with the dampness of the air.

"Yes, there were hunters," Lyle Stevens responded. "Water fowl season is in full force right now. People come to their private clubs to hunt and eat what they shoot for Thanksgiving dinner. It's a pretty strange community out here. Wealthy owners have crazy parties with lots of high dollar liquor."

Normally, two miles in a speedboat would seem as nothing, but their time on the water increased as the fog made it more difficult for the warden to navigate. This gave more of an opportunity for Jane and Lisbon to ask questions, however.

"Have you questioned any witnesses?" asked Lisbon. She looked at Jane, slipping his chilled hands inside his suit coat pockets. She tried not to feel too sorry for him, but allowed him the excuse to sit closer to her. It was a little disturbing how much his nearness was affecting her focus all of a sudden. She resolutely looked away from his ruddy cheeks because the cold made his eyes appear a brighter blue.

"We've been to about five clubs in the area, but no one saw or heard anything, which is interesting, since there is no hunting allowed on Thursdays."

"Why do you suppose someone would shoot this guy? Any personal grudges you know of?" Jane directed his question to the warden.

"No. Everyone loved Alex. He was a young guy, just out of college. It's really sad, what with the new wife and all. I dread having to notify her. Will you guys be taking care of that?"

"We could…but don't you think it would be better coming from someone who knew him?" Jane knew notifying family members was Lisbon's most hated part of the job.

"I guess so," returned Stevens. He sighed. "I'll call as soon as you are finished with his, uh, body."

At about this point, they rounded a bend and passed a small house next to a larger one, barely discernable through the fog. "That's the Black Dog Club," said the warden. "The West Wind is just ahead."

Sure enough, it wasn't long before they came to a small boat dock where another speed boat was tied up. The sheriff jumped out and tied off the boat as Stevens cut the engine. Jane automatically took Lisbon's hand to help her out of the boat, and he seemed a little surprised that she would let him.

"Your hands are cold," she murmured.

"Unlike you, I have no gloves in my pockets."

She grinned impishly. "Unlike _you_, I'm always thinking one step ahead."

"Now, that's not fair," Jane said gamely, "I always—what is that heavenly aroma?" He stopped in his tracks to properly inhale. Lisbon mentally rolled her eyes. _Always thinking with his stomach._

The clubhouse loomed into view as they stepped onto land. With the fog, it was difficult to see just how tall the building was. It seemed to be two stories, with a redwood deck on the bottom level, a matching wooden balcony on top. The windows were alight, and the heavenly smell of roasting poultry wafted out into the still air. Jane's mouth watered. That turkey sandwich just hadn't cut it.

"Smells like duck," Sheriff Martin said, unable to hide the hint of longing from his tone. Jane realized he and Lisbon weren't the only ones missing Thanksgiving dinner.

"Where's the body?"

_Good old get-to-the-point Lisbon. Did anything ever deter the woman?_

The two men escorted Lisbon and Jane on a walk just past the clubhouse. From out of the mist, two other men, mirror copies of their escorts, emerged to greet them. Introductions were brief with the unspoken desire to get this over with.

Just off the narrow road, in a patch of ice plant, lay the body of the young man. His attitude in death was such that, if they hadn't known better, he would look like he was peacefully sleeping, except for the bloodied bullet hole staining the green uniform just above his heart. They had to sidle down the incline beside the road, Jane once again grasping Lisbon's hand to help her avoid sliding into the slough, just past the ice plant. He grinned a little in surprise at the discomfiture that flared in her eyes at the contact.

_I'm imagining things, _he told himself. Even though he had long ago learned to trust his instincts about people, he felt a certain block where Teresa Lisbon was concerned. Her tiny yet capable hand squeezed his for balance, then abruptly let go when they'd reached the warden's still form.

Jane immediately dropped to his knees beside the body and began to sniff, Lisbon crouching nearby. The sheriff helpfully tossed her a flashlight, now necessary in the gray light.

"It's so damp and cold out here, I can't smell a thing," Jane commented softly.

"What will I do without my bloodhound," Lisbon whispered back wryly, catching his eye and winking. "Looks like he wasn't killed here," she continued, so the other men could hear. She stood again, surveying their surroundings. "No blood on the ground."

Jane was looking critically up and down the body. Then his gaze alighted on the man's shoes. "There's dust and dirt on the tops of his toes. He was dragged here. The angle of the body, head toward the water, seems to bare that out."

Lisbon nodded. They both got up and climbed together out of the ice plant onto the gravel road. This time, the warden helped Lisbon's last few steps up. The flash of jealousy in Jane's mind was unexpected and acute, and he purposefully focused on his own footing. Sure enough, when Lisbon shined the flashlight on the road, they could see two evenly spaced drag marks, and the faint imprint of two pairs of shuffling feet. He'd been dragged by two people.

"The sheriff said the same thing. The shuffle marks go down the road a ways and end suddenly in the middle of the road,"said Stevens.

"Someone obviously unloaded him from the car," Jane surmised. "We'll need to start searching vehicles in the area. But first—"

"Well, guess you must be from the CBI." They heard a big man's rumbling voice before they saw him loom out of the fog.

"Agent Lisbon, Jane," began Stevens, "this is Bryan Ernesto, owner of the West Wind." They shook hands all around, and Lisbon could almost see Jane's internal processors kicking in, sizing the man up. He was over six feet tall, with a shock of white hair and the body of a football player. Well, a football player in his sixties.

"Shame about Alex here. He was a good kid."

"You knew him?" asked Jane.

"Yeah. He'd drive by in his boat and stop in to say hi sometimes. My wife Sally always had a cup of coffee and some cookies for him, which is probably why we saw him as often as we did." He turned from Jane to include Lisbon in the conversation. "We're only here about a month out of the year, for duck season, then back again for our annual New Year's bash. My partners in club are here too. It's a nice refuge from the city."

"I can see that," she said noncommittally. "Sorry to ruin your holiday plans, but we'll have to interview everyone here at this club. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. Do come in. It's chilly out here."

"Agent Lisbon," interrupted the sheriff. "If you're finished with the crime scene, I'd really like to get him to the morgue. No one will be there for the holiday, of course, but we need to inform the family and get these guys back home for their own family dinners."

"Jane?" Lisbon prompted. He was still evaluating Ernesto, grinning mildly when he realized the millionaire was studying him as well.

"I'm finished, Lisbon. The sheriff's right. These boys should be allowed to go home."

"We'll load up the body, then, and head into town. I'll come back out here for you in a couple hours if you two will be okay by yourselves awhile."

"Go ahead, warden. Jane and I will be fine." Lisbon smiled slightly, her dimple showing. "We've done this a few times."

"Of course. See you in a bit."

Ernesto ushered them inside, where the savory smell of roasting meat assailed them. Jane welcomed the warmth of being indoors, and curiously studied their new surroundings. The front room was furnished with brown leather couches and a wood stove, it's fire crackling cozily. The other half of the great room was left open to a long table in the dining area, set for dinner. A wet bar/ kitchenette was on one end of the living area, and by the looks of the half-empty bottles of liquor, the club members had started celebrating early. The walls were covered with pictures of ducks flying and candid photographs of club members and their catches—both fish and fowl. A giant map of Grizzly Island covered the dining room wall. Lisbon planned to take a good look at it before they moved on to the next club.

"Welcome," Ernesto said magnanimously. "We're about to eat dinner—would you like to join us?"

"Yes," chimed Jane.

"No," said Lisbon, shooting him a look of annoyance. "Thank you, but we're here to investigate a murder. I'm sorry, but you may have to postpone dinner for awhile. We'll need to talk to everyone in the clubhouse before we can leave."

"Certainly. Sally!" Jane cringed as the booming voice filled the room.

A well-dressed woman in her forties came out of what Jane assumed was the main kitchen, wiping her hands on a _Kiss the Hunter _apron. Her blonde hair was cut in a classic bob, and her face seemed too tan for late autumn.

"This is my wife, Sally. Sally, these two are from the CBI. They're here about Alex's death."

Jane and Lisbon shook her hand and introduced themselves.

"Poor Alex," she echoed her husband. "Such a nice young man. I can't believe someone around here would kill him. I told Bryan it had to have been some kind of an accident. Unless…" She looked to her husband as if gauging his reaction.

"Sally," Ernesto replied sternly.

"Ma'am, if you have any information pertaining to this case, you are obligated to share it with us. Obstruction of justice is a very serious crime." Lisbon knew the words by heart. Meanwhile, Jane had wandered into the kitchen, and Lisbon could hear him talking and laughing with another woman. She tried to remind herself that that was just the way he was, resolutely tuning him out and focusing on Mrs. Ernesto.

"Well, that couple that manages the Hidden Cove. They always struck us as kind of…_off._ They were into that new age crap and I even heard they perform spells and dance naked under the full moon. Anyway, the woman, Crystal, she disappeared about a month ago from what our caretakers here tell us. No one has any idea where she went. I think her boyfriend, David, was responsible."

"That's all just island gossip," Ernesto snorted. "Stop making accusations you can't back up, Sally. You could get those people in trouble."

"Thanks for the information, Mrs. Ernesto. We'll be talking to everyone we can on the island. I would like you to tell me the facts you observed about this incident."

Meanwhile, in the gourmet kitchen, Jane was enjoying his conversation with the Ernesto's daughter. She was in her mid-twenties, tall, blonde and stylish in her couture jeans and clinging, low-cut sweater. She must be out of college, but looked like she hadn't worked a day in her life.

"Patrick Jane," he told her, "CBI."

"Ewww…a g-man. Here about the murder, I expect."

He grinned, turning on the charm. He wasn't unaware of the effect he could have on women—he realized this power at an early age, and perfected it as a fake psychic. That old expression about flies and honey worked for him every time, and the lovely Ms. Ernesto was no exception.

"Yes. And from the family resemblance, I'm guessing you are Bryan and Sally's daughter."

"Yes. I'm Sophia." When they shook hands, Jane held hers slightly longer than necessary, looking deeply into her eyes. She blushed and pulled her hand away as if she'd been burned. His smile grew wider.

"Do you enjoy being on this island? You strike me as more country club than hunting club."

She laughed girlishly. "On the contrary, Mr. Jane—"

"Patrick."

"Patrick. I go out hunting with Dad and his buddies all the time. I'm a pretty good shot. Three of the six ducks for dinner came from me."

"Impressive. You cook them too?"

"Yes. Check them out." She opened the door to the large oven and he admired the glistening ducks that took up two racks.

"I smell sage," he commented, breathing in. "And are you doing them a l'orange?"

"Of course. With long-grain and wild rice stuffing. There's an extra duck in there. I'll share it with you, Patrick, if you can stay for dinner." She somehow made the offer highly suggestive.

"I'd love to, but my boss out there is all work and no play. I'm starving for a home-cooked meal, and all she can think of is solving this case." He shook his head mournfully. "It sure smells good in here, though."

"The ducks aren't ready yet, but there's plenty of pie. Surely she wouldn't object to you having a small piece while you interrogate us."

He laughed. "Oh, I'm sure she'd object, but you can't unring a bell."

She chuckled and took a huge pie out of the refrigerator, slicing him the first piece and topping it liberally with whipped cream. She laughed out loud as his eyes got round in anticipation. She handed him the small plate, and he smiled internally as her breath caught when he closed his eyes in pure bliss at the first big bite.

"Awww…perfection, Sophia. Just the right amount of nutmeg."

He opened his eyes and saw her staring, then swallowing.

"Thank you. I—I, uh, I made it myself."

He shook his head in feigned disbelief. "You are a wonder. But I'd better get back to my colleague. She's lost without me."

"I'm sure," she said under her breath, following him back out to the living area. Jane smiled, pleased with his accomplishment.

Lisbon had been invited to sit on one of the leather couches, and listened intently as the Ernestos repeated the story about their caretaker finding the body.

"I'll need to speak to him and his wife, too. Are they in that little cabin next door?"

"Yes, eating their own Thanksgiving dinner, I imagine," said Sally Ernesto. "They're not as sociable as our last caretakers. They always enjoyed joining our parties over here. We still keep in touch."

At about this time, Jane and a striking young blonde woman came out of the kitchen. They were both smiling, while Jane worked on a slice of pumpkin pie with a liberal dollop of whipped cream. She wanted to be mad at him, but couldn't possibly when his eyes sparkled that way and a bit of cream had collected on his full bottom lip. She nearly blushed when he caught her staring at his mouth, but covered her emotions by rising to her feet to greet his companion.

"Sophia is my daughter as well as my social secretary. I couldn't function without her," Ernesto extolled, pulling his daughter into the crook of his arm. She seemed perfectly content to be there, and looked up at him adoringly.

_Daddy's girl, _thought Jane. No one asked what _social secretary _actually entailed; both Jane and Lisbon surmised that it must be just a token position to keep his daughter close.

"Well, she seems to have all her ducks in a row in the kitchen," Jane quipped, enjoying Lisbon's predictable eye roll. Everyone else laughed.

Two more middle-aged men came down the hall, high ball glasses in hand, arguing about a football game they'd been watching somewhere in the back of the clubhouse. They stopped short upon seeing the new arrivals, but before anyone could be introduced, Lisbon's cell phone rang.

"Excuse me," she said, standing up to walk toward the front door, "I have to take this."

"Agent Lisbon, this is Sheriff Martin. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

"What is it, Sheriff?"

"This fog has gotten even thicker, and there's no way we'll be able to get back out there tonight to pick you up. It was really too dangerous for us to be taking the warden's body, but we were halfway down the slough before we realized how bad it was, so we just went on through. It got worse as we went, though. It took us a half-hour to go two miles."

"What? No way!" Lisbon stepped outside to see for herself, and everyone looked up at her small outburst. Jane set down his pie and joined her on the deck, and they were met with a gray wall. The slough, just twenty feet from the house, had completely disappeared, and it was difficult to see a foot in front of them.

"Isn't there a way to drive off here, to a bridge or something?"

"Well, normally, yes. Though the levees are opened to flood the island for hunting season, you can generally drive on the levee roads completely around the island and meet up with a bridge. But in this fog, with the roads so narrow, you could drive right off into the slough with one wrong turn. No, best you and Mr. Jane stay out there. The warden here says the Ernesto's are good people, and they have plenty of room for you in that clubhouse. They'll understand your predicament. This kind of fog is not unusual out here."

She sighed heavily, shooting a pained glance at Jane. "How long does this usually last?"

"Warden says he's seen people socked in for days. We'll keep an eye on the situation, and keep in contact with you by cell. You need me to contact anyone for you?"

"No, thanks Sheriff. I'll take care of it. What are you guys going to do?"

"Well, fog's not as bad once you get away from the slough. We should be able to drive into town with the body and get home okay, but it'll be slow-going."

"Okay. Well, have a nice Thanksgiving. Thanks for your help today."

"No problem. Sorry again you have to be stranded for the holiday. I'll be in touch."

She dropped her hand in defeat, restraining herself from throwing the phone into the water.

"I take it from your excited expression you heard all that," she said to Jane.

"Yeah, sorry Lisbon. But I can't say I'm sorry we'll have to eat dinner with the Ernesto's. Sophia already invited me to join them."

"Why is it you always end up getting your way?" she asked in frustration.

He put his arm consolingly around her shoulders and steered her back toward the door of the West Wind.

"You just need to accept that about me, Lisbon, and learn to go with the flow."

She gave an unladylike snort, and allowed him to open the door for her. His gleeful chuckle followed her back inside.

A/N: You like this set-up? Now that everything is in place, I can focus more on the Lisbony goodness I have planned for future chapters. I'd appreciate your feedback, especially regarding the dialogue and characterization. I've been trying really hard to get a feel for these two, and suggestions are always welcome! Thanks in advance.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks again for the great reviews. I have a few days off for the holiday, so guess what? I've had time to write a little more. Please note that this is my second chapter posted since Friday, so please go back and read Ch. 2 if you haven't already. The murder case plays second fiddle to Jisbon from now on. This really isn't just a case fic, if that's what some of you were worried about. That being said, I think it would be out of character for Lisbon and Jane to jump into bed out of nowhere (as much as we all might want that), don't you? There's too much baggage these two have to cast off to make room for each other. Hopefully, I'll give them a little push in this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

As much as she hated giving in to him, Lisbon had no choice but to allow Jane to have dinner with the Ernesto's. Who knew how long they'd be stranded here, and they had to eat, right? The food _was_ good, even though she had never been much of a duck fan. Too rich. The conversation at the table was lively and witty, and she chose not to spoil their dinner with talk about the case, using this time instead to observe. As far as she was concerned, everyone at the table besides Jane and herself was a suspect.

The other two men that had joined them were Oscar Ernesto and Arlin Hoyt. Oscar was a first cousin of Bryan Ernesto, she soon found out, and all the men were former Marines. They joked that it was a requirement to be a club member. Two other members weren't there for the holiday, but the Ernesto's insisted they too were Marines, as well.

"So, Mr. Jane," Bryan was saying, "I heard you tell my wife you weren't actually a CBI agent. A consultant, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that's right." Lisbon knew he was secretly happy to be in the spotlight again. She only hoped he wouldn't say or do something stupid; they were dependent on the Ernesto's hospitality, after all.

"So what kind of consulting is it?" Sophia queried, her gaze still intent on Jane, as it had been throughout dinner.

"Well…I guess you could say I read people."

"Read people? How fascinating. You mean, like a profiler?" Sophia said, warming to the possible intrigue. She was sitting to his immediate right, and leaned perceptively closer.

Jane chuckled, shooting Lisbon a slightly apologetic glance. But the look was unnecessary; she knew damn well he was just waiting to show off. "Not exactly. I've studied human behavior very well and can usually figure out the guilty parties just by their reactions or by figuring out their unspoken motives."

Bryan was obviously skeptical. "Well, I'll ask the obvious question, then. Did one of us here kill Alex?"

From her position across the table, Lisbon caught his eye and shook her head slightly. He didn't have to be a mentalist to know _her unspoken motive_ at that moment.

He grinned like the Cheshire cat he was. "It isn't clear yet," he said, a bite of duck poised in the air, "I'll have to do a little more observation."

The other men chuckled, and the momentary tension was gone. But then…he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "I _will _say, I'm a little curious about Oscar's anger toward _you_, Bryan. He's been shooting daggers at you the entire meal."

Everyone grew quiet, and Bryan regarded Jane with an expression of guarded annoyance. "Oh?"

"Jane..." she murmured in warning, which he promptly ignored.

"Yeah," he continued, gesturing with his fork. "You did something recently to upset him, something that has him angry enough to contemplate bodily harm."

"I would not—" Oscar began.

"Oh, dear," Jane interrupted, "it must have been very bad, indeed."

"Fine, Mr. Jane," said Oscar, his anger barely in check now. "I'll play along with your little game. Bryan nearly killed me earlier today."

Lisbon's trained ears perked up at this admission. "What happened?" she asked simply.

"He pushed me into the slough, that's what."

"It was an accident, Oscar. I didn't see you in the fog."

"Ha. Bullshit. You've been wanting to get me back for bagging that duck yesterday that you missed."

"That's ridiculous, Oscar, and you know it," said Sally Ernesto, the good wife defending her husband. "Bryan isn't a petty man, and wouldn't hurt anyone intentionally. Besides, the only thing that got hurt was your pride. If you ask me, you deserved a dunk in some cold water."

"I already apologized for it, and I'm not going to do it again." Bryan's firm voice brooked no further discussion.

Jane looked from one of the involved parties to the others. He had difficulty swallowing his grin. "See, I knew there was something wrong."

"Yeah," Bryan said tightly, "that's some genius detective work there."

Jane refused to hear the sarcasm in the millionaire's voice. "Thank you. That's just a small example of what I do. See? Now everything is out in the open, and we can all enjoy our meal. Great rice, by the way, Sophia. I can definitely taste the sage." He dug into his dinner with new gusto, while everyone else at the table seemed suddenly to have lost their appetites.

Lisbon and Jane finished their interviews with the West Wind's caretakers—simple, earthy people, who tended to keep to themselves. This island seemed a perfect fit for them. They described what Lisbon had already heard twice before about the discovery of the body, and Lisbon felt pretty confident they were being honest, and she could tell by Jane's gentle questions that he felt the same way.

She stopped Jane in the middle of the wooden boardwalk between the two buildings. The fog was so heavy that they had to hold on to the railing to make sure they didn't fall into the ever present ice plant beneath the walkway.

"Did you really have to ruin their dinner?"she said in an angry whisper. She'd been holding it in since they left the clubhouse, and since Sophia had escorted them over to meet the caretakers, this was their first chance to be alone.

"Oh, you mean the Ernesto's? Naah. The dunking in the slough wasn't really what they were angry about."

"What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm thinking Bryan caught Oscar in a compromising position with Sally, but hasn't said anything to either of them. Bryan is a master of hiding his emotions, but Oscar clearly is not. Since Oscar has no idea that Bryan knows about his tryst with Sally, he was only reacting to the forced swim he took. Bryan, on the other hand, is a ball of suppressed rage. I'd keep an eye on him, if I were you, Lisbon."

"You think he's capable of murder?"

"Definitely. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd already gotten away with it once or twice."

Lisbon's eyes widened. She leaned in closer to him, worried that someone could be listening that they couldn't see through the fog. Jane flinched a little at their sudden proximity, Lisbon's breath warm and sweet from the single glass of wine she'd allowed herself at dinner.

"You mean to tell me, you got a possible murderer pissed off at you now? Did you even think about how we are staying here with them, alone, far from backup? What the hell is wrong with you?"

With her cheeks flushed in anger, and her eyes snapping green fire, she was glorious, especially standing this close. A stray lock of dark hair fell into her eyes, and without thinking, he reached up to brush it away. The jolt of electricity made her draw in a sudden breath, but she didn't move as he tucked the hair behind her ear. Their eyes met and held, and both of them lost their train of thought. They stood there on the boardwalk a moment, the chill air and fog insulating them from the rest of the world.

"I'm sorry, Lisbon," he muttered finally. "Sometimes I can't help myself." He dropped both his hand and his eyes, and the moment was gone.

"Well, uh, watch it from now on. We've got to live with these people." She didn't wait for his reply, but turned back toward the clubhouse, gripping the railing tightly as she walked.

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The rest of the evening was spent in clearing, cleaning, and cards, with plenty of alcohol to try to ease the tension of Jane's handiwork. But as Lisbon watched all from afar, nursing another glass of the fine Chablis, she could see that Jane was probably right about Sally and Oscar. Their fingers lingered as Oscar handed Sally a napkin from the table. They came out of the kitchen where they had been briefly alone together, each looking a little guilty, and avoiding the eyes of the others. She was a student of human behavior herself, and had to admit all the signs were there for something illicit between them. Every touch meant something to them. Every stolen glance held a deeper meaning. And she'd go one better on Jane—the two adulterers were probably in love.

Jane, in the middle of demonstrating one of his amazing card tricks, happened to look up just as Lisbon had come to her realizations. He smiled gently, knowingly at her, as if reading her mind. When she blushed at his sudden attention, his face grew solemn, and he watched in confusion as she abruptly got up from her place at the opposite end of the table and went into the kitchen.

Lisbon leaned against the counter by the sink, looking out of the kitchen window into the darkness.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

An owl hooted outside somewhere nearby, and she jumped a little at the sound. Something between her and Jane was changing, and she wasn't sure what it all meant. She knew she cared about him, found him to be amusing, too intelligent for his own good, and devastatingly attractive. Because of his tragic past, she felt protective of him, vigilantly watching over him to prevent him from some act of self- destruction. But ever since his recent kidnapping, when she had thought for sure that she had lost him, emotions that ran deeper than friendship had rushed unwillingly to the surface, and, once released, felt like she was trying to stop a geyser with her bare hands.

_This was not good. Not good at all. _

She didn't have to be a psychic to predict that having romantic feelings for Jane meant nothing but disaster ahead. After all, they'd both been witness to the train wreck that had come with Rigsby and Van Pelt's unadvised love affair last year. And how pathetic were the star-crossed lovers now? The longing looks when they thought no one else was watching. The barely concealed jealousy when they each saw the other moving on. No, she wasn't ready to risk either her heart or career for a damaged man like Patrick Jane. She would just have to try a little harder to suppress her feelings. Okay, _a lot_ harder.

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Jane managed to finish his card trick, but he no longer enjoyed Sophia's sounds of awestruck adoration. Something was bothering Lisbon, and he had the sneaking suspicion that _he _was at the center of it. He pushed his chair away from the table, excusing himself in the guise of making tea. Everyone laughed into their wine glasses when he offered to make them a cup, so he followed Lisbon into the kitchen.

She stood alone, seemingly looking out into the night, but from the tension in her stance, he knew she was deep in thought. His first instinct was to go to her, to tease her into admitting what was bothering her. But for once, he restrained himself. He realized that he was _scared_ to know what she was thinking.

Ever since he'd been kidnapped, something suddenly had shifted in their universe, and their fear of losing each other had made them hyperaware of every touch, every look that passed between them. Hours spent handcuffed to a post had given him time to really think about what he'd be missing if he were to die and never see Teresa Lisbon again. His earlier plan about distancing himself from her seemed suddenly scarier than losing her to Red John. Oh, he still had that particular fear, but if Red John had been watching them at all the past few years, as Jane was certain he had, he would already have a pretty clear idea that he cared for her. His nemesis would be more suspicious of him suddenly pulling away from her in an obvious attempt to protect her from his reach. Red John would be more likely to retaliate _then_, just to show Jane he couldn't be thwarted by Jane's pathetic machinations.

He had no delusions that he could protect Lisbon, so why punish them both by pulling away? The problem was, he was so used to punishing himself, it would be hard to break the habit. He smiled wryly to himself. Well, he couldn't exactly express his undying devotion in the Ernesto's kitchen, so he may as well make some tea. He pretended for Lisbon's sake that he was just coming into the kitchen.

"Would you like some tea, Lisbon?" he asked brightly, finding a whistling teapot from a cupboard above the stove. She startled, composed herself, then turned to face him. He grinned at her efforts to maintain control.

"Sure. I've had enough wine for the night."

Jane didn't comment on that. Two glasses hardly seemed like too much. Then again, he had barely touched a drop in eight years, not after drowning in it for months right after his family was butchered. He'd decided, once he'd gotten out of the mental hospital, that if he were ever going to avenge himself on Red John, he'd have to have a clear head. His smile faltered, but returned at Lisbon's reaction when he brushed past her to fill the teapot. She nervously stepped aside.

_She was having a tough time with this too, _thought Jane, feeling oddly better at the realization.

"Well, tea is just what you need. I cased the place earlier, and found that they only have the basics—orange pekoe or chamomile. What's your poison?"

She laughed. "Chamomile is good. I'm gonna need it if I'm gonna get any sleep here. It's too damn quiet."

The owl hooted again as if to mock her. "With the exception of the wildlife," Jane said, putting the water on to boil. They regarded each other warily, unused to feeling uncomfortable alone together.

"Lisbon—" he began, attempting to break the silence. But Sophia suddenly breezed into the kitchen, complaining tipsily that Cousin Oscar had cleaned her out in blackjack. It was just as well, since Jane really hadn't known what he was going to say to Lisbon anyway. The young woman might just have saved him from making a big mistake.

Sally joined them seconds later. "I was thinking, you two," she said, referring to Jane and Lisbon, "about the sleeping arrangements. There's only one empty bedroom, and it has two twin beds. But if that's not going to be comfortable for you, Teresa, you could sleep in Sophia's room."

All eyes flew to Lisbon, Jane and Sophia awaiting her decision with great interest. The galloping of his heart seemed to be saying: _Pick me. Pick me._

Lisbon swallowed hard, her mouth unaccountably dry. "I wouldn't want to put anyone out any more than we already have. Bunking with Jane will be fine. It'll be like summer camp."

Jane didn't miss Sophia's crestfallen expression, but he chose to ignore it since he was getting his wish. Though what he would do about this turn of events, he had no idea.

"You went to co-ed summer camp?" Jane teased. "Lucky boys."

"I went to summer camp," piped up Sophia, sidling over to Jane. "It was all girls though. Mom and Daddy were afraid I'd get into trouble at a co-ed camp. But what they didn't know," she whispered loudly, "is that a group of girls and I snuck over to the boys' camp down the road."

"Sophia!" Sally chided, truly shocked.

Sophia laughed in delight. "You'd better be careful, Patrick. I might just sneak into _your_ room tonight." She waggled her eyebrows at him.

"Don't worry, Jane," Lisbon said. "I'll protect you." Her hand went lightly to where her sidearm was holstered beneath her blazer jacket, and Sophia, just now noticing that one of their guests was armed, gasped in surprise.

Jane grinned from ear to ear. _God, I love this woman. _The moment he thought it, he understood that those weren't just words in his head. He meant them, and it scared the holy hell out of him. _When did this happen? _

"Do you have one of those, Patrick?" Sophia asked.

He shook his head, afraid to speak. Lisbon once again came to his rescue. "No. We only give weapons to people who can exhibit self-control." Her smile took the sting from her words, but when he wouldn't meet her eyes, her smile gave way to a concerned frown. The whistle of the teapot saved them all.

"Well," said Sally, oblivious to all the strange undercurrents in the room, "Sophia and I will go prepare your room."

"Thank you," said Lisbon politely.

Jane had moved to make the tea, pouring milk from a small carton into the cup first, then hot water. He dunked the chamomile bag, glad of something to do with his hands. He hoped she didn't notice how badly his hands were shaking. She spoke not a word, taking the proffered mug with the West Wind logo below a flying mallard. She didn't remind him that she didn't like milk in her tea.

A/N: Kudos to all of you and your predictions about the sleeping arrangements. I hope I'm not always that predictable, but you had to know SOMETHING might happen if Jane and Lisbon were stranded together on an island. Next up: THE BEDROOM. In the meantime, please leave a review so I can see how I'm doing.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: You reviewers are amazing! I've never had such a response to my writing before. Maybe it's because I'm actually writing for a show that's still on the air, lol. Anyway, I'm very grateful to you all. I was so excited about this chapter, I couldn't wait another day to post it. So here it is: Lisbon and Jane spend the night together ;). Hope you like it!

Chapter 4

Much later, Sally offered to show Jane and Lisbon to their room.

"Watch out for Emma," she cautioned with a mysterious smile as she led them down the first floor hallway.

"Who?" asked Lisbon.

"Ahhh…must be the resident ghost," Jane surmised. "All old houses have one."

"Except, this isn't exactly a house," Sally replied. "This was actually a river barge long ago, and when it was out of commission, it was floated here and permanently beached, then converted to a house. Emma is the Victorian-looking woman that haunts this place. We don't know who she could have been. I've personally only seen her once, when I was alone in the house. I saw her at the end of this hall as I watched from the great room. I thought someone had broken in, so I called out. She looked back at me, then rounded the corner into the game room. I called outside for Bryan, but of course no one was there when he went back to check."

"Has anyone else seen her?" Jane asked, although he certainly didn't believe in such things.

"Yes, glimpses upstairs too, in the master bedroom. And once I felt someone watching me while I did the laundry in the basement. Sometimes, it's just a presence, but there's definitely someone else here. She doesn't frighten me. We call her Emma because the name seems to fit her somehow." She shrugged and smiled. "Well, here we are. The Red Ryder room."

Jane and Lisbon looked at the western-style writing on the door near the end of the haunted hallway, then they shared a soft laugh.

"Named for the BB gun, I take it," Jane grinned. Just such a BB gun was featured prominently in their favorite holiday movie, _A Christmas Story. _

"Yes. Let me show you why." She turned the doorknob and they followed her inside a room decorated in a western theme. On the wall above the door, in a clear glass case, was an original Red Ryder BB gun, circa 1938. It looked to be in perfect condition.

"This was Bryan's first gun, passed down from his father," Sally said. "All the bedrooms are named for different types of ducks, except for this one. When we bought the club, I thought this would be the perfect place to display it."

"Good idea," Lisbon concurred. She noted there were two twin-sized beds, as promised, and that each one had been turned down for them. Sally had helpfully set out borrowed robes and nightclothes for them both.

"You can use the bathroom across the hall. We keep extra toothbrushes, razors, and other toiletries in there when people sometimes forget to bring something. Help yourself. If you like, once you change to your nightclothes, you can wash your clothes downstairs in the basement. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in your own clean clothes tomorrow."

"Thank you," Lisbon replied sincerely. "Your hospitality is really appreciated. We certainly didn't intend for any of this to happen, and you've all been so gracious."

Sally's smile was genuine. "No trouble at all, dear. Glad you got stranded here, and not down the road where the occultists live."

Jane smirked. "Yeah, that would have been even scarier." Lisbon elbowed him when Sally's back was turned to leave them. He grunted softly.

"Well, goodnight you two. Rest well," she called cheerfully over her shoulder.

"Thank you," Lisbon and Jane chorused.

_Alone at last, _Jane thought, surveying the room—anywhere but looking into Lisbon's eyes. He picked up the blue pajamas supplied to him, fingering the smooth material. Silk. Too small to have been Bryan Ernesto's; likely from his much thinner and shorter cousin, Oscar.

"You want to use the shower first?" He asked generously.

"Yeah, thanks. Don't mind if I do." She picked up the robe and nightgown, noting in amusement that it was a decidedly more motherly garment than Sophia's nightclothes likely were. It was what she would call a _granny gown_—flowery flannel, high-necked, and coming to her ankles. Sophia wasn't taking any chances, leaving her alone in here with Jane.

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When Lisbon returned from the bathroom, she wasn't surprised to see they had a visitor. Sophia was sitting on one of the beds next to Jane, laughing at something clever he'd said. He was clad in the robe, and she tried to avoid looking at the thick blonde hair on his legs or the smoothness of his chest that she glimpsed in the _v _of the robe. His three-piece suit lay neatly over a chair, the rest of his clothing folded at the end of his bed. She looked hastily away when she realized he must be naked beneath that robe. She laid her own pile of clothes not so neatly on her own bed.

"Oh, hi, Teresa. I brought you some reading material." Sophia held out a stack of magazines, which Lisbon took and automatically set on the lamp table between the beds.

"Thanks," she said dully.

"And I was just waiting for you to finish your shower," Jane said, feeling unaccountably guilty for talking to Sophia in _their _room. He couldn't remember ever seeing Lisbon's hair wet and fresh from a shower, combed straight back but curling gently at the ends. She smelled heavenly from whatever soap or lotion she'd borrowed, and he gulped when he realized he'd have to smell her all night. It was enough to make him jump to his feet, apologize to Sophia, and head promptly to the bathroom. If it weren't so cold outside, the temperature of his shower would have been, for sure.

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"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH" game the ghostly voice from the stairs leading down to the basement.

Lisbon had found her way down there to take Sally up on her offer to use the washing machine. She looked toward the dark doorway, grinning to herself at the not-so-carefully disguised voice of her colleague. Getting no reaction, he continued in a poor imitation of a feminine poltergeist.

"OOOOOOOOO! I am Emma, the ghooooaaaasssstttt of the West Winnnnnnddddd!"

"Yooooouuuuuuu are Patrick, paaaaiiiinnnnn in my asssssss," she countered, giving her own ghostly impression.

Jane's grinning face appeared comically on one side of the doorframe. "Scared ya, didn't I?"

She couldn't help the soft laughter that bubbled up from his antics. She continued with her work, pouring liquid soap into the empty machine, then turning the knob to _cold._

"Well, aren't you the very picture of domesticity?" Jane commented, entering the basement. Lisbon began loading the washing machine with her jeans, underwear, top, and bra, then Jane's shirt, socks and gray boxer briefs, the small load filling up quickly with sudsy water. She'd blushed as she quickly tossed in his underwear.

Jane smiled at the bare toes that peeped from beneath Lisbon's extremely unflattering nightgown, her toenails painted a bright pink. This was a far cry from the sexy little football jerseys he knew she normally slept in, and he found that endlessly amusing.

She ignored his condescension and said, "Hope you don't mind that I took your clothes to wash. Your suit was dry clean only, so I'm afraid you'll have to wear it again tomorrow."

"Thanks, Lisbon, you didn't have to do that." He watched as she closed the lid on the washer, then he couldn't resist teasing her a little more. "You didn't mix colors and whites, did you?" Like he didn't do it himself all the time. That's why his boxer briefs were gray, after all.

"They were _all_ colors," she hedged, realizing that he now knew her undergarments weren't just a serviceable white. Why this suddenly embarrassed her, she didn't know. She took the time to sneak a glance at Jane, now clad in blue silk pajamas that matched his eyes perfectly. She moaned internally as she noticed the smoothness of his newly shaved cheeks, the scent of some expensive aftershave heightening her senses. She gulped when she realized she would have to smell him all night.

His wildly curly hair seemed tamed for once and slicked back, putting the beauty of his face in sharp relief. He must have realized she was staring, for when her eyes finally rose to meet his, there was knowing amusement in them. She flushed, but for once, didn't look away. They stood there a few heavy moments, as if seeing each other for the first time. It was disconcerting. It was a little frightening. But, above all, it was exhilarating.

"What time is it?" Lisbon finally asked, looking away at last. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought she might faint.

_Chicken, _thought Jane. It wasn't like her to be the one to give up first, even if it was just a staring contest.

"Nearly midnight. The poker game upstairs is still going strong, if you want to join them. Although, I think Bryan is a little mad that I won five hundred dollars off him."

"By cheating."

He shrugged. "What he doesn't know, won't hurt me."

She yawned, sitting in the chair at the small laundry table. "Sorry," she said, her hand covering her mouth. "I'll just stay until our clothes are washed, then throw them in the dryer before I turn in. You can go on up to bed if you want to."

_Awwww…she's trying to avoid me now. I wonder why that could be?_

"Did you call Hightower earlier?" He asked, making no move to leave. Instead, he took the chair opposite her.

"Uh, yeah." Jane-clean, handsome, and up-close, was a little overwhelming. "She was understandably upset with the situation, but hey, what can ya do?"

"She does seem to be surprisingly understanding and calm about most things," he offered.

"Yeah."

He was making her uncomfortable. Maybe if he talked about the case… "You think any of the Ernesto's are good for the murder?"

She considered this seriously a moment, and some of the tension left her face as they began to talk shop. The twenty minutes it took for the washing machine to finish passed quickly, as they took turns bouncing ideas off one other. Jane was convinced no one in the club had done it; Lisbon, not so much.

"Sophia's a good shot," she ventured mischievously.

_You little minx. You're jealous. _He smiled at her unusual display of her pettiness.

"True," he agreed, playing along. "Maybe she was having an affair with _Poor Alex_, as he's frequently called. It went bad, and she shot him in the heart. She got her father to help her toss him in the ice plant. Hmmm…I guess that means she's single now." He casually leaned back in his chair, enjoying her brief flash of temper. A buzz from the machine startled them both.

"The washer's done. Thanks for keeping me company. You can go back up now; I'll be right there."

He'd been summarily dismissed, but he didn't want to anger her further with his teasing, so he hurried up the stairs, excited beyond measure that she would soon be sleeping beside him, even though it was just a twin bed four feet away.

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Lisbon realized in hindsight that she should have let Jane load the dryer. It would have given her the chance to remove her robe, jump into bed, and feign sleep when he came in. Instead, she tapped lightly on the door and entered to find him in bed, his pajama top on the chair with the rest of his things. He slept bare-chested, and she was surprised to see just how well-defined that chest was. As far as she knew, he never made time for exercise beyond the occasional leisurely stroll.

"I get too hot at night," he said, catching her checking him out.

She wasn't about to touch _that_ statement. Instead, she quickly dispensed with her robe and got into her bed, knowing she should read to clear her head. Jane had the same idea, and they both reached for the magazines at the same time. Their hands collided, and they pulled them back jerkily, chuckling nervously.

"So, what did Sophia bring for us?" Jane asked, not really caring. Lisbon fluffed up her pillows, taking the stack of reading material onto her lap.

"Well, let's see here." She began shuffling through the titles. "_Vogue." _She snorted heartily at that one, since fashion had never been a priority for her._ "Town and Country. People. American Rifleman. Field and Stream. _Ha! I'm assuming the boy magazines are for you and the girl magazines are for me. They really don't know us at all."

"Toss me _Town and Country," _he laughed. She began thumbing through _American Rifleman, _the NRA's official magazine. This activity kept them occupied for about ten minutes, before Lisbon began drifting off, despite her heightened awareness of the half-naked man across from her. It had been an exhausting day, not the least of which was due to the mental exhaustion of dealing with her confusing new feelings for Patrick Jane. She was just going to rest her eyes for a minute…

"Hey, Lisbon," Jane said, chuckling. "You won't believe this article. Did you know-? Lisbon?"

Deep, feminine breathing was her only response. He sat up and looked over at her. She was so cute, so innocent looking, the gun magazine spread open on her flannel-clad chest, moving up and down with her breathing. Her captivating green eyes were closed to him, but he could still admire her perfect complexion, and the dimple in her cheek that never disappeared. He got up quietly and gently removed the magazine, placing it back on the nightstand. He brushed the nearly dry bangs from her eyes, and paused, his hand still in contact with her soft skin. Did he dare?

His heart picking up speed, he leaned in and touched his lips to her cheek. He wanted to groan aloud at the rose petal softness, her alluring scent making him feel a little dizzy at his daring. It took all his inner strength not to take her lips right then, to awaken his sleeping beauty with a kiss that he knew would either bring them back to life, or end up killing them both. But he'd dared enough for one night, the tender touch making him literally shake in reaction.

"Look who's chicken now," he mumbled in frustration, turning off the light so she might rest better.

He lay there in the darkness, listening to the owl hoot and Lisbon's breathing.

_I'm in love with her._

He contemplated the enormity of this conclusion, his heart tripping over itself just _thinking_ the words. How in the hell could he ever say them _out loud?_ To _her?_

His right hand moved to his left, feeling the warmed metal of the wedding ring he still wore. Over the years it had become more symbolic of his desire for revenge, rather than for the vows he'd taken with his wife. But he'd also used it on more than one occasion to protect himself, pointing apologetically to it when a woman came on to him, twisting it nervously round and round his finger when he'd come close to having any sort of romantic feelings, like with Kristina.

_And look how that turned out, _he thought bitterly.

But there was yet another reason he still wore the damned ring: self-flagellation. He would never forgive himself, and celibacy was just another way to inflict punishment for all the sins that led to his family's death. If he took off the ring, it would be like saying he was forgiven, that he was free. And Patrick Jane was definitely _not _free.

He would always love his wife, mourn her loss, seek her killer. Those were the new vows that had replaced the original ones he'd taken at his wedding, the day his wife had slid the ring onto his finger. He couldn't decide if loving Lisbon would nullify those vows, or if these years of tracking Red John had earned him a little clemency. Time off for good behavior. He didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know if he could _not_ do it.

_I'm in love with her, and I don't think I have the strength to stay away._

He released a shuttering breath, resigning himself to yet another sleepless night. But a funny thing happened. Unconsciously, his breaths began to even out and match Lisbon's, lulling him into one of the deepest sleeps he'd had in months.

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Something woke her, and Lisbon, given the million times she'd been awakened by a call in the night, had trained herself to become instantly alert upon waking. She reached blindly for her cell phone, forgetting at first where she was, until she heard Jane cry out.

"Lisbon! No!"

"What?" she replied aloud. "What is it, Jane?"

"No! Stop, please!" His voice was the strangled, wrenching sound from a nightmare, and Lisbon pulled her covers back and went to his side, fearing he'd wake the rest of the house with his anguished cries.

"Jane! Wake up! You're having a nightmare."

"Lisbon?" He gasped, but she could tell he was still dreaming. His hands reached out for her, grasping her upper arms in desperation.

"Jane!" she said, trying to shake him awake. He was in some dark place she couldn't seem to reach. "Patrick, wake up! You're scaring me."

That did it. He jerked once, spasmodically, then bolted upright in bed, breathing heavily.

"Lisbon?" he asked again, confused, but finally awake.

"Shhhh…I'm here. Everything's okay. You were dreaming." And then she found herself crushed to his naked torso, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

"He took you," he said shakily into her hair. "He had a knife…oh God. It was so real…"

"I'm here," she whispered, her hands beginning a tentative rhythm up and down his clammy back, soothing him like she would a frightened child. "Relax. It was just a dream."

His arms loosened a little, and his breathing began to slow, but she could still feel the erratic pounding of his heart, so she continued her comforting caresses, one hand coming up to smooth the unruly curls at his nape.

She didn't know how long they held each other, but neither of them wanted to let go. She'd just gotten a glimpse into the horror he relived on a nightly basis, and it had shaken her to the core. She wished, not for the first time, that she could take his pain away, ease his troubled soul, help him to heal the damage that bastard had inflicted upon him.

When Jane had awakened, disoriented, still in the throes of his nightmare, he had held on to Lisbon like a drowning man, grateful beyond measure that he'd just been dreaming. She was real. She was alive. She was in his arms. A wave of love crashed over him, and his hands rose tentatively to her silky, slightly damp hair. He pressed her head closer, breathing her in, reveling in her closeness as the terror of the dream began to fade away. Reluctantly, he pulled away. One of her small, warm hands slid down his chest, and he shivered a little at her touch.

"Are you alright?" She whispered.

"Yeah. Sorry. Did I yell?"

"Yes. I was worried you'd wake everyone."

"Sorry," he muttered again. "Did I hurt you? Sometimes I lash out or kick. The covers end up on the floor a lot."

"No, I'm fine. You, uh, have these dreams often?"

He was quiet a moment, contemplating how much of his inner torment he should share with her. "Often enough that I don't sleep much."

"You said my name," she ventured, concerned, but not wanting to pry.

He laughed softly, without real humor. "He was going to kill you, and there was nothing I could do but…watch." There was no doubt who _he _was.

"I'm sorry," she said simply.

He reached out into the darkness to touch her face, and was surprised to find it wet with tears. "You're crying. You sure I didn't hurt you?"

She shook her head, then, realizing he couldn't see her, replied: "Of course not. You would never hurt me."

"No. Never intentionally. I wish you hadn't seen me like that. I'm a little embarrassed."

"Don't be. I can't imagine what it must be like for you, to wake up alone after one of those dreams."

It suddenly dawned on her why he always slept on the couches at work. He felt safe there, among gun-toting friends, and he was likely mentally and physically exhausted much of the time. She told herself right then she would never again tease him about sleeping on the job.

"Don't cry for me, Teresa," he said, a little of his usual humor creeping into his tone. "I'm used to it. It's just a part of my life now."

She wanted to tell him he needed counseling, or a visit to a sleep clinic, but she guessed he knew that, but felt somehow that he didn't deserve any help.

"You can always talk to _me_, you know. You don't have to be alone in this."

"Yes," he said seriously. "Yes, I do."

"Well, you're not alone tonight. Scoot over."

"What?" he said in disbelief, unsure of her intentions, and a little frightened by them too.

"Scoot over. I'll lay beside you until you fall asleep. It used to help Tommy when he had nightmares."

"Lisbon, I somehow doubt this will—" But since he could refuse her nothing, he was already sliding over to where the bed was pushed against the wall.

"Shhhh." She reached down to the end of the bed where he'd kicked the covers, pulling them up over them and then laying down beside him, her cheek resting on his bare chest, one arm beneath her right side, the other thrown over his stomach.

"Now, try to go to sleep. I'll sing you a lullaby if you want."He heard the laughter in her voice.

He chuckled in surprise, totally smitten. "No thanks. I've heard you sing in the car. The idea was for me to fall asleep, not have more nightmares."

He hissed when she slapped his side at his impudence. "Hey!" he protested.

"Shut up and go to sleep, or I _will_ sing."

They lay in silence awhile, and he felt her smile against his chest. Just as she was about to drift off again, he bent his head and kissed the top of her sweet-smelling head.

"Thank you, Lisbon," he whispered.

"Uhhh-huhhh," she murmured, then was out like a light.

_It must be nice to be able to do that._

He snuggled down under the blankets, arranging the limp woman more comfortably at his side in the narrow bed, grinning to himself like an idiot.

Just before dawn, Jane finally succumbed, both of them having forgotten that she was only supposed to be there until he fell asleep.

A/N: Okay, I'm a tease, I know! I'm hoping to leave you begging for more, lol. And _I'm _begging _you_—post a review, if you please!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I have to keep saying how delighted I am at all the reviews and hits my little story is receiving! I'm verklempt! I try to respond to every reviewer, so please log in before you post so I can thank you directly. And now a chapter I am very proud of. I hope you like it too .

Chapter 5

Lisbon awoke to an empty bed and to the uneasy feeling that she'd overslept. She squinted at the bedside clock: 9:23.

"Dammit!"

She jumped up and went to the small window, pulling aside the curtains. Her movements slowed as she beheld only gray, gray, gray. Lisbon had the sinking feeling they wouldn't be leaving this island any time soon. With a sigh, she flipped on the lamp and saw that her roommate had been busy. The other bed—_her_ bed—had been neatly re-made, and her freshly washed clothes lay folded atop the cowboy print comforter, including her black bra and panties. She cringed and blushed at the idea that Jane had been the likely little elf who'd brought up her clothes from the basement. With that thought, the events of the night before came crashing back.

She'd slept with Jane. In a bed. All night. Strangely, it didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable to remember it now. She'd been a friend comforting a friend after a bad dream, but, oddly enough, Lisbon had been the one to feel the comfort of his warm body next to hers. She'd slept like a baby, and that was saying a lot for a woman who rarely slept with anyone at all. She wondered how Jane had slept, if he was still upset about the nightmare he'd had, how he felt about their closeness in the night. Well, there was only one way to find out.

Making sure the door was locked, she pulled off her nightgown and reached for her clean clothes. As she was snapping her jeans, she caught a whiff of maple syrup and…could it be? Coffee! Someone was cooking breakfast! Lisbon's stomach rumbled its opinion, so she hastened to the bathroom, then followed her nose down the hall to the kitchen in search of Jane. She knew that if food were involved, Jane would be right in the middle of things.

She heard Jane's animated voice before she reached the end of the hall, regaling his audience with a story about childhood breakfasts spent with the carnie folk, so that when she paused in the doorway, a small smile was already plastered on her face. Lisbon shouldn't have been surprised to see that Jane was not only in the middle of things, he was, in fact, the chef. Her colleague stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Sally's apron tied at his neck, filling a platter sky-high with dozens of silver-dollar pancakes. He turned with a flourish to deliver them to the waiting occupants of the West Wind, but, at the last moment, caught sight of her and paused mid-sentence.

She was lovely, framed in the doorway that way, dark hair curling around her shoulders, her smile slowly widening at the spectacle he must have made. His mind flashed back to earlier that morning, when that same dark hair was tickling his bare skin. Her pale cheeks flushed at his warm regard, and his eyes sparkled merrily back at her. It took him a moment to remember to breathe, to remember what he'd been saying, and he finished his sentence as he set the platter down on the breakfast nook table. Everyone's attention swung to see what had distracted Jane, and there were pleasant calls of "good-morning!" and "please join us!" She didn't miss Sophia's narrowed eyes as she noted the way Jane had looked at Lisbon.

"Yes, Lisbon, sit down and eat before Arlin here gets hold of the platter again," Jane advised. "He's eating the pancakes faster than I can cook 'em." The others chuckled in agreement.

"There doesn't look like there's room at the table," Lisbon hesitated. "I can wait."

"Nonsense," replied Sally. "I'm actually full; take _my _place, please."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Let me get you some of Patrick's excellent coffee. What a treasure he's turned out to be."

"Oh, he's a treasure all right," Lisbon murmured ironically, as Jane caught her eye and winked. Her stomach fluttered, and not just from hunger. So Lisbon took Sally's vacated spot between Bryan and Arlin, not hesitating to reach for the platter of pancakes. She'd grown up in a houseful of boys, and had learned then that if you didn't dig in quickly, you may not get your fair share. Slathered in butter and maple syrup, Jane's pancakes were as delicious as they looked.

"Wow," she said, unable to hide the surprise in her voice, "these are great, Jane."

He pretended to be insulted. "You wound me, Lisbon. Don't you know by now that anything I attempt to do, I do extremely well?"

"I bet," muttered Sophia, her eyes devouring Jane and not the small stack of pancakes on her plate. No one but Lisbon seemed to hear her double entendre. Either that, or they were all used to her suggestive remarks. And was it her imagination, or did Sophia's sweater seem even more low-cut today?

"I'll never doubt you again," Lisbon replied, choosing to ignore the girl. Lisbon cut a miniature pancake in half before shoving it in her mouth. She swallowed her bite, then turned to Bryan Ernesto. "I looked outside and saw that if anything, the fog looks worse this morning."

Ernesto sighed, sipping his black coffee. "I'm afraid so. Weatherman said we're in for at least one more day of this. Another wasted day we could have been hunting."

"We'll be imposing on you all again, I'm afraid."

"Don't think anymore about it," Sally told her, refilling coffee cups. "We have plenty of room and you are more than welcome."

"Thank you, Sally," said Jane, adding more to the platter.

Arlin, Bryan, and Oscar pushed back from the table at the same time. "Well, that was really good, Jane. Sorry to eat and run, but our football game is about to start, and I've got a thousand dollars on San Diego." Oscar's eyes flew to Lisbon's when he remembered that the CBI agent might frown upon their illicit gambling.

She laughed. "Nothing wrong with a friendly wager. I've got ten on it myself."

Oscar laughed heartily, clamping a meaty hand on her slim shoulder. "You're an alright broad, Agent Lisbon." She took it as the complement he'd intended.

"Thanks." She didn't miss Jane's amused smirk.

"Patrick," began Sally, "now sit yourself down and eat some of those wonderful pancakes. Even the chef has to eat." Jane grinned and removed his apron, taking the empty place across from Lisbon. "Sophia and I need to change the sheets and put out clean towels this morning. You two, enjoy your breakfast."

"Mother—" Sophia protested.

"Stop whining. No maid service on the island, remember?"

"I'm about finished," Lisbon said, "I'd be happy to earn my keep and help you ladies."

"Don't even think about it. You're our guests." Sally smiled and ushered her daughter out of the room as if she were twelve and not twenty-five.

Alone at the table now, Lisbon and Jane settled into a companionable silence, only broken by the clicks of silverware and soft chewing.

"How'd you sleep," Jane finally asked, regarding her over his cup of tea.

She tried hard not to blush, an uncomfortable state she'd found herself in a lot lately. She took a sip of coffee and bravely met his sparkling blue eyes. "Like a rock," she answered. "You?"

_Such a loaded question, _he mused silently.

The image of awakening earlier invaded his mind for the hundredth time that morning. At around eight, he'd awakened to find Lisbon sprawled practically on top of him, her hair wild and flowing over his chest and neck, her long nightgown bunched up around the shapely legs that tangled with his. Her position did nothing to help his usual morning arousal, and he remembered closing his eyes tightly against the sweet torment of having the woman he loved snuggled up to him, while he was too afraid to do anything about it. Instead, he'd slowly disentangled himself, surprised that she was sleeping through his awkward movements. Once out of bed, he'd readjusted the comforter around her, grabbed his robe, and had practically flown out of the room to retrieve their clean clothes. Down in the basement, he leaned against the cold dryer, trying to calm down and steady his breathing.

"I was rather rock-like myself," he answered, hoping she wouldn't get his true meaning. At her startled expression, however, he realized she'd understood completely. A becoming blush coursed through her cheeks, and he laughed, despite his own embarrassment.

They finished their meal in silence, Jane enjoying the picture she made, rosy and bright-eyed, eating her pancakes like a lady. All of this—the laundry, the shared bed, eating breakfast together—made him imagine other things that he'd forbidden himself to think of these last eight years. It was dangerous to his well-being to even consider a normal life with her, waking up every morning with her warm body beside him. Seeing her outside of work. Kissing her. Making love.

_Extremely hazardous, _he thought, finishing his tea.

Abruptly, he rose, his dishes in hand, and began cleaning up the mess he'd made cooking. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Lisbon had gone to the sink and was filling it with soap, hot water, and dirty dishes.

"I'll do those," he said, remembering how hard she always worked, wishing to give her a day of leisure.

"Don't be silly. I'd like to earn my keep, too. You got to cook breakfast," she accused.

"Well, I'll dry then," he compromised. He stood by her at the sink, dish towel in hand, as she washed and rinsed the first dish, handing it to him. She looked up shyly, experiencing the surprising thrill of doing something as domestic with him as washing dishes. He met her eyes, then his blue gaze settled on her lips, and he suddenly grinned. Her heart turned over in her chest.

"You have syrup at the corner of your mouth." He reached out his thumb to wipe it, and Lisbon, hands soapy, reached out her tongue to lick at it at the same time. At the touch of her wet tongue on his thumb, his smile dimmed, and he swallowed shakily. His brain went into automatic, and he dipped his head to touch his own tongue gently to the place where hers had been. It tasted amazingly sweet. His world toppled crazily, and his heart thumped like he'd been running. He looked into her dazed green eyes, seeking permission, and when they lowered to focus on his lips, that was all the encouragement he needed. Still, he hesitated a fraction of a breath before he closed his eyes, and jumped headlong into the abyss.

His lips trembled against hers, and she let out a slight gasp at the first intimate contact. He moved his mouth slowly, seductively, over hers, learning its shape as she was learning his. They touched nowhere else, their bodies tense and still, the focus of their entire existence centered on where their mouths fused together. His kisses were at first tentative, for he was sadly out of practice, but as the seconds passed, his confidence increased, and Lisbon's breath began to come in uneven pants.

Nevertheless, she was becoming impatient with his leisurely pace, so, to hasten things along, she opened her mouth and slipped her tongue out to trace his full lips. His reaction was not at all what she'd expected, but it turned out to be what she'd secretly longed for since the first time she saw him. After years of self-denial, once unleashed, Jane's passion exploded as he immediately plundered her open mouth. His hands were everywhere—first, buried in her hair, then on either cheek, turning her head in search of the best angle to drink her in.

They moaned as the electricity shimmered through their bodies, and he pulled her almost violently to him, their tongues tangling in a crazy, dizzying dance. She tasted of maple and sweet coffee and a flavor all her own that made him feel slightly drunk. Neither one noticed Lisbon's wet, soapy hands creeping up his arms, then wrapping around his neck to pull him closer still. He backed her flush against the counter, ravishing her mouth with a hunger that surprised them both. The evidence of his desire pressed into her stomach, and he continued kissing her until she thought she might faint from the beauty of it.

Somewhere, off in the distance, Jane heard the faint ringing of a cell phone. It was enough to tear him from his passion-induced haze, and he pulled away slightly, gulping for air and leaning his forehead against hers.

"Teresa," he whispered. "Your phone's ringing."

"What?"

"Your phone," he tried again, more loudly.

"Oh." She began jerkily searching her front jeans pockets, till she pulled out her Blackberry, looking blindly at the caller ID. She forced her brain to concentrate, and she saw it was Cho.

She pressed a button and brought the phone shakily to her ear as Jane gave them both room to try to recover.

"Lisbon," she said, trying and failing to sound normal.

"What's wrong, Boss? You sound out of breath."

"I, uh—ran to get the phone."

Jane, seeing the sudden humor in the situation, grinned at her discomposure. She grinned back, then shook her head at him, reaching up self-consciously to smooth her hair, as if Cho could actually see her. Her little attempt to regain her composure made him want to mess up her hair all over again.

"Hightower apprised us of the situation," Cho was saying. " We're on it at this end."

"Any word from the coroner?"

"No."

Lisbon sighed. "We're stranded here at least another day, so it's all on you guys, I guess. There's nothing for Jane and I to do since we can't even see to search the area. We're totally dependent on the kindness of strangers."

"Sorry."

"You might start looking into the victim's background, then, you and Rigsby get to Fairfield and start asking questions."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thanks for holding down the fort, Cho. Keep us updated."

"Will do."

The call ended and Lisbon felt like reality had thrown a bucket of cold water over them. In spite of Cho's untimely interruption, her heart still pounded and her hands were shaking in delayed reaction. She walked back over to the sink, the site where her life had just changed forever. Jane moved back to his place beside her, and she was pleased to note that his hands shook too as he picked up the discarded towel from where it had landed haphazardly on the counter.

"Is everything okay?" he asked softly.

She tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. "It's more than okay, don't you think?" Her dimple showed as she picked up another dish.

He smiled in relief that she didn't seem to be sorry for what had just happened. On the contrary, she seemed just as happy as he was. They both knew that they had a lot to talk about now, but as they finished doing the dishes, they were content to say nothing at all.

TBC

A/N: Wow! Was it good for you too? I literally worked for hours on the kissing scene, so I hope it paid off. I wanted it to perfectly capture all the emotions and physical feelings of a first kiss. I could probably work on it for hours more, but I'm putting it out in the world before I mess it up completely. I would appreciate it if you give me your opinion. And remember, this is for posterity, so please, be honest (any _Princess Bride _fans out there? Lol).


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Caution: Extra long chapter ahead. Caution: the last part of this chapter veers sharply into rated "M" territory, so be warned. I'll stop talking so you can start reading. Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Lisbon wanted to be alone to think. Trouble was, it was very difficult to be alone in a houseful of people. But, for the sake of her own sanity, she had to get away from Jane, whose scent, whose body heat, had her aching to be in his arms again. She realized belatedly that making out with Jane in the Ernesto's kitchen was highly inappropriate, and she was a little embarrassed when she thought how they could have been interrupted at any moment by someone other than Cho. Standing next to him at the sink, as they finished doing the dishes, was a serious lesson in self-restraint. Better to get some physical distance between them before she threw him down on the floor and had her way with him. She grinned to herself at the thought.

"What's that little smile for?" asked Jane softly, making her jump since they hadn't spoken in ten minutes.

She felt her cheeks redden, but she risked looking into his sparkling blue eyes anyway, determined to be strong. "You're a psychic, you figure it out."

"Ha," he said, moving dangerously closer. "You're insulting me to try to get me off the topic. It's not going to work, Lisbon."

"Oh? How 'bout those Chargers?"

He grinned, handing her a towel so she could dry her hands. "Now that is even more pathetic," he snorted, "Football references. If you're trying to distract either of us from the elephant in this room, you'll need to do much better than that. He's a _very_ big elephant." His grin turned wicked as he reached for both her hands to attempt to pull her back into his arms. She'd fallen prey to Jane's charm many times, but slightly naughty Jane was downright irresistible. It was a side of him she really wanted to get to know better, just not in someone else's kitchen.

"Jane—" she was pulling away, but only halfheartedly, wanting this, wanting _him_, despite her good intentions.

"Lisbon—" he mocked her gently, his head descending to steal a kiss. But at the first brush of his warm lips, she heard approaching feminine voices, and jumped away like a singed cat. Sally entered the doorway, calling to Sophia over her shoulder to take the dirty sheets down to the basement. She looked at the clean kitchen in surprise.

"Well, look at you two! I told you, you were guests. I was just about to do that myself."

"It was the least we could do, really," Jane said. "You've been so kind…" He gave Sally his widest, most devastating smile, and watched in amusement as she too succumbed, her hand going up unconsciously to smooth her hair. He ought to have a license for that weapon of his; it was dangerous to all womankind.

"Mrs. Ernesto—"Lisbon began.

"Sally, please,"she corrected.

"Sally, would you mind if I explored the clubhouse a little? I'd love to see what you've done with the rest of the place."

"Well, of course. Sorry I didn't think of it before. Would you like a tour guide?"

"No, that's okay. I see you're busy. I'll just look around a little, if you don't mind."

"Make yourself at home, dear." She turned to Jane. "Patrick, would you mind getting that green bowl from that top shelf for me?"

Lisbon took that moment to escape, but not before seeing Jane's knowing look. This time, _she_ knew what _he_ was thinking: _I'll let you run away for now. But I'm not finished with you yet._

And that was fine with Lisbon. For now, she needed to be a safe distance away from temptation.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane got the bowl down for Sally, listening with one ear to her chatter about the fog, football, and the ways of men. He could understand Lisbon's desire to get some distance. They were both actually very private people, and now that they'd opened themselves to each other physically, it would mean they would have to start opening emotionally too, if this thing between them were going to progress. Lisbon seemed to like their kisses, and he still remembered what it felt like to hold a woman who desired him. By the way she melted in his arms, there was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him. He hadn't gone without for _that_ long.

He wondered now, given the success of those kisses, if she was in love with him. He knew she cared, and he'd established a few minutes ago that they could be good together. All the signs were there that it was possible. She was old-fashioned enough that she wouldn't be the one to speak of love first, so, if he wanted to know her true feelings, he'd have to tell her his. The thought of saying those three little words, however, scared him half to death.

"—Patrick?" Sally was saying. He must have zoned out.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I, uh, just have a lot on my mind."

"Hmmm. I would imagine so," she said, "given your feelings about Teresa. How long have you two been together?"

Jane looked at her in some surprise, quickly reviewing his recent behavior around Lisbon and the others. Was he that obvious? Normally, he was a master of keeping things close to his vest, so to speak, so he was genuinely taken aback at her perceptiveness. But he didn't want to run the risk of talk getting back to someone else at the CBI.

"I don't know what you mean, Sally," he said, putting on the teapot for something to do.

She looked at him with narrowed, motherly eyes. "Now, Patrick, you can't fool me. The tension between you is thicker than that fog outside. I've been around long enough to know what true love looks like."

Jane turned back to face her, oddly comforted that someone else knew his secret. Still, he had to protect Lisbon at all costs. Deflection would be the key here.

"Like with you and Oscar," he ventured softly. Her eyes widened, and she was quiet a moment, looking away from his penetrating eyes.

"I don't know what you mean, Patrick," she echoed, smiling a little. _Stalemate, _thought Jane. They met each other's eyes with amused respect.

"Please don't get the wrong idea. I've been faithful to my husband."

He studied her face a moment, reading her expression carefully. He nodded once. "I believe you. But let me warn you, whatever feelings do exist between the two of you, Bryan is on to them, and he's fully prepared to something about it."

She looked stricken, and a little scared by this information. Jane genuinely liked this woman, and because of her kindness, he felt he owed her his insight into her unfortunate situation.

"Has Bryan ever hurt someone because of you?"

She reached up and wiped sudden tears. "Yes," she whispered. "He's always been the jealous type. At first it was flattering, but then, I realized how dangerous he could be."

"And you think he killed _Poor Alex_, the game warden, don't you?"

"What? No!"

"Yes, you do. Maybe because he paid too much attention to Sophia, am I right? He's protective of her in much the same way, isn't he?"

"Patrick, please," she said, her eyes darting to the open door. "He might hear you."

Jane shook his head. "If you want my experienced opinion in reading people, let me put your mind at ease: I don't think Bryan had anything to do with the warden's death. Someone obviously dumped his body here from somewhere else. Bryan isn't stupid enough to leave his victim in his own front yard."

Her legs nearly buckled in relief, and she moved to sit heavily in a kitchen chair. Jane took two cups from the cupboard and filled them both with hot water, then dropped in two chamomile tea bags and brought the hot drinks to the table. He sat across from her, reaching for her cold hand.

"Thank God. I was so scared that he—"

"I figured that," Jane said, squeezing her hand in comfort. "But I want you to be careful of Bryan. Make some excuse to leave here, once the fog lifts. Get him away from Oscar, or there will be trouble, I promise you. Or, better yet, leave the bastard while you still can. Lisbon and I will help you."

She looked at him with a strange mixture of fear and hope. "I…couldn't. I mean, it's been forty years…"

"Forty years of fear, Sally. Sophia will be fine now. She's a grown woman. You don't have to stay with him for her anymore. Leave. Run away with Oscar, even. You deserve a little happiness, don't you?"

"But what will he do without me? He'll be lost. He'll be devastated. He might come after us."

Jane nodded in agreement. "He might. That's where I'll come in. Give me the word and Lisbon and I will protect you both." He grinned suddenly. "Lisbon has a gun and everything."

"I'll think about it," she said. And Jane knew right then that she would never leave him. He sipped his tea sadly.

"I really hope you do, Sally."

"Thank you, Patrick, for your help. Someday, when you marry Teresa, you'll make her a very good husband."

It was Jane's turn to experience a jolt of fear. He said nothing, but watched warily as Sally smugly brought the mug to her lips.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon found her way to the second floor of the clubhouse, and went out French doors onto the upper level deck. It was nice to get some fresh air, even though it was still damp and cold. There was nothing much to see up there, given the fog, but it was quiet, and she sat a moment in a wrought iron chair to think.

She had never felt this way about anyone before. She felt an attachment to Jane that went beyond attraction, beyond friendship. And they _were_ friends. She might not be able to trust him in the room with a witness, or to do what she told him in any official capacity, but she could trust him with her secrets, with her life. It was a strange dichotomy. But when his lips met hers—she shivered in remembrance—there were no two ways about it: she wanted him. And there was ample physical evidence that he wanted her. She smiled as she remembered that too.

It was a miracle that two damaged people such as they could just seem so…_right_ together. But that rightness didn't make their problems disappear; Lisbon was sensible enough to realize that. There was still his hell-bent need for revenge that drove him to take unnecessary risks, and her very real fear that she could lose her job if it became known they had a relationship. It was Rigsby and Van Pelt all over again, and she didn't like the pain she saw them enduring. They'd chosen their careers over love, and it hadn't seemed to make either of them happy. Would it be that way for her and Jane? Would she make that same decision if it came down to it?

But Lisbon had been alone too long, and she knew what that felt like. She didn't know what it would feel like to be with Jane, but if that kiss was any indication, she had a pretty good idea it would be damn good. She owed it to herself to find out if a life with Jane was what she really wanted. Deep down, she was a romantic at heart, and she liked to think that she would choose love over a job. It occurred to her that the rest of her team might think of her as a hypocrite, but for once, she was going to think about what _she _wanted. Not her brothers. Not the CBI. _Her._ Teresa Lisbon.

It would almost certainly depend on Jane, however. _Mr. Wildcard_. Would he—_could_ he—choose her over Red John? Now there was the real question. She could see him quitting the CBI and going it alone. It pained her to think of him leaving, trying to find that murderer without her around to protect him. She still had the hope that he would do the right thing in the end, that the darkness within him was not really capable of carving up Red John like he had done to Jane's family. But her biggest fear was not that he would _try_, but that he would _fail_ in the attempt, and he would become just another body in the serial killer's long line of victims.

She shook her head to clear away the horrible image of Jane's bloody, lifeless body. No, nothing about this would be easy with Patrick Jane. If she kept that in mind, proceeded with her head as well as her heart, maybe everything would work out okay. Lisbon was an optimist, despite her own complicated past, and the young girl inside of her still believed in happy endings. She was resolved, then: she was going take a little risk of her own, because she deserved to be happy. She took a deep breath of the cold air, and went back inside in search of a certain blonde consultant with mischievous blue eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane sat in the game room at the bar with the other men, watching football on the flatscreen TV that hung above it, pretending to drink the mid-morning whiskey Bryan had poured for him. He couldn't focus on the game at all, or even the manly conversation around him. He kept reliving that kiss with Lisbon, and he felt like he was about to go crazy wondering what she was thinking about it. He felt certain she was analyzing every possible outcome should the two of them become involved, and having done his own fair share of analysis, it wasn't looking too good for them.

But how could he stay and work alongside her without showing her how he felt? He'd had a taste of her now, and he had no self-control when it came to sweet things. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her, and they could both end up getting fired. He couldn't do that to her, either. He'd have to call on every last ounce of his charlatan ways to deceive the best detectives he knew. It would be a challenge, but if Lisbon would only take a chance on him, he'd pretend well enough to win an Academy Award.

He smelled the expensive perfume the instant before the leather bar stool next to him was pulled out and occupied by a feminine presence.

"Hi, Patrick," said Sophia Ernesto brightly. "Who are you rooting for?"

Jane turned politely to Sophia, suddenly regretting how he'd flirted with her yesterday, even though he was only trying to get pertinent information out of her. He smiled. "San Diego seems to be the popular choice in here, so I'll be on the safe side and cheer for them. These guys have guns, after all."

Arlin heard his comment and shot Jane an appreciative grin.

"I'm not into football much myself," continued Sophia, "although I dated a quarterback in college."

"That doesn't count,"said Oscar wryly.

Sophia laughed. "I suppose not. I can play a mean game of pool, however. What do ya say?"

Jane brightened at that, and his gaze settled on the pool table on the other end of the room.

"You're on."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane had already beaten Sophia twice when Lisbon found them. He was enjoying the rich girl's pouting, unused to a man not letting her win, despite her obvious attempt to distract him with her…assets. When he sank the eight ball in for the third time, Sophia practically threw her cue on the pool table and said she'd had enough of his showing off. Jane hoped she'd finally gotten the message that he wasn't ripe for seduction. Well, at least not by her.

Lisbon smirked as she took in the scene, rightly surmising what had happened before she'd gotten there. She'd seen Jane play pool before, the old hustler. Sophia brushed past her in the doorway, muttering:

"You can have him. He's insufferable."

She caught Jane's eye, and she tried hard not to laugh in the girl's face. "He is, isn't he?"she agreed wholeheartedly. Sophia only sighed dramatically and went on her way.

Lisbon walked casually over to the pool table, mindful of the sports fans at the bar, and of Jane's heated gaze as his eyes roamed up and down her body.

"Well, that was mean," she said. "You weren't betting with her, were you?"

"Nah. I'm not one for taking candy from babies. Would _you _like to play?" The way he asked made it sound like he was asking for more than a game of Eight Ball.

"Will you play fair?" she asked. "Give me a fighting chance, at least?" There was a double meaning in everything now, it seemed.

"I'll try."

She stared into his eyes, gauging his sincerity. "Okay," she smiled, apparently liking what she saw. She made a great show of removing her blazer jacket, cracking her knuckles, and chalking her cue. He stood by, holding his own cue vertically before him, its butt on the hardwood floor, as he watched her in fascination. When she blew the excess chalk away, he thought he might break the stick in two.

Her t-shirt was not low cut, her jeans not too tight, and the Holy Cross suspended from her neck-he found her to be sexier than a million Sophias. The way she played pool was a direct correspondence to Lisbon herself: her shots were well-planned, her form smooth, her aim true. Jane had never been more turned on by a game in his entire life.

He lost the first game. He couldn't focus. The memory of their kisses and the thought of what he wanted to do to her in the near future made his moves jerky and uncoordinated. One time he caught her checking out his ass as he leaned over the table. He missed easy shots and she made difficult ones, which all added up to Lisbon hustling the hustler. Normally, he hated to lose, but at the moment when she smiled at him in quiet triumph, he would have taken her on the pool table right then if they hadn't had an audience.

"You could give Cho a run for his money in the coolness department," he commented, racking up the balls for a second game.

"Thanks," she said, dimpling, "I'll take that as a complement."

He smirked at her quiet confidence. "Okay, break 'em, Fats," he teased.

He won the second game. Though the effect of her obvious charms had certainly not worn off, Jane had mentally shaken himself out of his sexual thrall, and promptly employed his own powers of distraction. He stood too close to her right before she took a shot, breathing soft words of encouragement into her ear. When he walked past her, his hands went lightly to her waist as if to politely move her aside. He stared at her in blatant appreciation—her eyes, her lips, her chest, her hips. He put on his trademark killer smile whenever he could, and his eyes smoldered at her from across the table. Lisbon felt like the entire game was one long foreplay session, and by the end of it, she was shaking too much to make a decent shot. He'd whipped her soundly, and she nodded in silent appreciation of the master.

She gently put her cue back on the rack.

"Had enough?" he asked, grinning at the effect he'd had on her.

She walked over and took his cue from his hands, deliberately running her fingers over his knuckles as she did so, green eyes flashing suggestively. His grin wavered, as he was at once reminded of who was truly in charge here.

"Not nearly," she said. "But I'm finished playing…for now." With that parting shot, she picked up her jacket and glided from the room. He debated a minute, trying to decipher if she was issuing an invitation. He hadn't done this in awhile, and he marveled at how quickly things had changed between them. He'd been attracted to her from day one, but he'd suppressed those feelings because they weren't part of his ultimate plan for revenge. Somewhere within the last twenty-four hours, however, the universe had shifted, and with his acknowledgement of his feelings for her, his priorities had suddenly changed. It was a little disorienting. But when Patrick Jane wanted something, he was ruthless in that pursuit. And he wanted Teresa Lisbon like he'd never wanted a woman before.

The men at the bar cheered at a play, startling him into action. He called out his good-bye to deaf ears and left in search of his new priority. He didn't have to search very long. He paused by their open bedroom door, and saw Lisbon standing by the nightstand, shuffling through the stack of magazines. Her back was to him, but the instant he entered the room, she froze, turning slowly around to face him as he shut and locked the door behind him. Her heart hammered anew.

She didn't protest as he walked right up to her, standing uncomfortably in her personal space.

"So," he whispered, "have you had enough time to think your way out of this?"

She swallowed. "That's not what I was doing."

His hand came up to caress her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm.

"What did you come up with then, my logical Lisbon?"

When she opened them again, her eyes were luminous in the dim light. "There's nothing logical about this. Yesterday we were just friends, colleagues. Then, today…_The Kiss_…"

His lips twitched at the way she'd capitalized it, like it was the name of some monumental event. He guessed it was, to the two of them.

"There's nothing logical in the way you make _me_ feel, that's for sure," Jane said, his voice trembling, going slightly higher in that cute way it did sometimes. "You pulled the rug from beneath my very feet, Teresa, and I—I don't know what to do about it."

She looked deeply into his eyes, seeing the fear, the uncertainty, the need. She'd had her little dalliances over the years—nothing serious—mostly one-night stands, she was a little ashamed to admit. But to the best of her knowledge, Jane had been without love and affection in his life since his wife's death. The brief thing with Kristina had turned tragic, so he must be feeling very unsure of himself right now. She realized that he was looking to her to take the lead, to take his hand and show him the way to go. So she did, both literally and figuratively.

"I know what to do," she whispered, just before she stretched up take his lips with hers. He moaned into her mouth in gratitude, then promptly remembered exactly where to go from there. Their first kiss had been hesitant, infinitely tender, but Jane was finished with hesitation now. Within seconds of their lips meeting, Lisbon found herself on her back on her bed, Jane's warm body atop hers. His kisses were deep and drugging, and his hands began to wander. She felt them slide beneath her t-shirt to her bare stomach, then move slowly up to cup her breasts. It was her turn to moan as his fingers found her nipples through her bra, and he kissed his way from her mouth to her cheek, then to the sweetness of her neck. His breath stirred her hair as he found her earlobe and took it into his mouth, suckling gently in time with his busy fingers. She felt her stomach trembling with a desire that spread lower still, and she tried and failed to think coherently. Their shallow breaths filled the small room, and he stifled her mewling noises with his mouth. He found the front clasp to her bra and pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes bright with passion.

"Yes," she breathed, in response to his unspoken question, reaching down to guide him. His warm, shaking hands found her bare breasts, and he pulled up her top so could look at what he'd uncovered. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes flew back to hers, heavy lidded with excitement.

"You're beautiful, just as I imagined," he said in awe. "I love it when I'm right."

She flushed, and he noted with pleasure how the color sped down her chest to find the small, perfectly round mole on her right breast. His mouth went there first as he traced it with his tongue a moment, then moved to take the tip of her small breast in his mouth. She arched her back and buried her hands in his hair as he pleasured her with his teeth and tongue. She bit her lip to keep from crying out while he used his hand on one, and suckled the other, making sure to give each breast equal consideration.

She was aching to touch him too, and her hands reached down to unbutton his shirt as far as she could reach. He laughed tremulously, then sat up so she could reach his vest, then the rest of his shirt. He took that opportunity to pull her shirt over her head, then pushed her back down again, covering her. They sighed and shivered at the feel of flesh against flesh. He kissed her again, his hands going beneath her to pull her closer still. Her hands ran up and down his smooth, muscular back, then slipped down to cup his delectable derriere through his slacks. She laughed against his mouth a little when she thought of the many times she'd tried to avoid staring at it.

"What?" he asked curiously. "Did I do something funny?"

"No," and her voice hitched as he found her breast again. She gave his butt cheeks a squeeze. "It's just…I've always wanted to do that."

"Have you now," he said, still breathing heavily, but amusement lighting his eyes at her words. He slowed the pace a little, bringing his hands up to frame her face, kissing her lips lightly. "Well don't let me stop you. Have at it."

She grinned shyly, but brought her hands between them to unbutton his slacks, drawing down the zipper as she stared into his eyes. The humor faded as she dipped her hands inside, sliding teasingly across his erection, then beneath the waistband of his underwear to cup his bare ass, pulling him down against her. He hissed in surprise at the incredible sensation, then groaned helplessly as she caressed his buttocks to her heart's content. She was in the process of pulling down his pants when he suddenly stayed her hand.

"We have to stop," he said, his voice deep with arousal.

"Huh? Why?"

He sat up reluctantly, groaning a little at the lost contact. He glanced at her, half naked and trembling on the bed, and felt like an idiot for saying no to that.

"We're about to the point of no return, here, and, uh—"he ran his hand through his hair in frustration-"I only carry tea in my wallet, remember?"

"Oh."

"And for another thing, I don't want our first time to be in a twin bed in someone else's house where we could be interrupted at any minute. I want to take my time with you, Teresa Lisbon," he said, his eyes filled with sensual promise.

"There are other things we could do…" she suggested, her eyes averted.

He chuckled lightly, then bent over her and kissed her sweetly, avoiding the heaven of her bare skin. "True," he conceded, intrigued. "Logical Lisbon strikes again. I'll meet you back here long about bedtime. Is it a date?"

He stood up and tossed her her t-shirt. "If I can wait that long," she said wryly.

"Oh, Lisbon, believe me, it'll be worth the wait."

TBC

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone again for reading and reviewing. It's what keeps me updating more quickly. I respond to every logged-in review I get, but I can't write back to you unless you are, in fact, logged in. I'd love to talk to all of you, especially you, _**xanderseye**_, (big Buffy fan here) because I love your screen name, and because your reviews are so cool. But no matter how you review, thanks so much for taking the time!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I can't thank you all enough for the lovely reviews. It's very addictive, and I'm afraid my ego is getting very big. Okay, so this chapter is filled with even more "M" rated stuff. I hope you don't mind. I'm feeding my fantasies, is that so wrong?

Chapter 7

The rest of the day was spent with reading, football, and longing looks. Jane and Lisbon sat close to each other whenever they could, ratcheting up the torture, but helpless to stay away. For something to do, she helped Sally prepare lunch, and when she was sent into the walk-in pantry down the hall, Jane had overheard and was waiting for her, catching her off-guard and kissing her senseless against the toilet paper rolls and paper towels on the shelf behind them. Lisbon emerged a few wild minutes later, remembering at the last minute to grab a jar of mayo on the way out while smoothing down her passion-mussed hair and trying to slow her pounding heart.

Jane stayed in the pantry a while longer, attempting to calm down. He smiled at his predicament. He felt like a teenager, all raging hormones and sexual energy. Bedtime couldn't come soon enough to hopefully relieve the constant state of arousal he'd been in since their time on the bed two hours before. He decided he couldn't wait that long, despite his bold words to the contrary. Smiling evilly to himself, he began to hatch a plan.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cho called Lisbon to tell her he and Rigsby had made it to Fairfield, where they'd begun interviews with the dead warden's family.

"Did you find out anything useful?" Lisbon asked her second in command. She was out on the upper deck again, the most peaceful part of the clubhouse.

"No. The guy seemed pretty normal. No priors. No apparent animosity among any of the family members."

Lisbon sighed. "It had to be someone on the island, and they could still be out here if they didn't get off within that small window of time between the murder and when the fog rolled in."

"Until you can get to the other clubs, I guess we're at a standstill. What do you want us to do on this end?"

"Keep asking questions anyway. Call me when the coroner's report comes in."

"Okay, Boss."

She ended the call and put her phone back in her pocket. What a difference a day made. If yesterday morning someone had told her that a day later, she'd be in bed with Patrick Jane's mouth on her—well, she would have had them committed to the psych ward. She let the laughter bubble up and come out of her mouth in a joyous sound tinged with disbelief.

"God help me, I must be nuts myself," she muttered, shaking her head at herself and still smiling.

She paused at the door, thinking of his sunny smile, riotous hair, and mischievous blue eyes. Not her normal "type." She usually went for dark hair and soft, brown eyes. Then she thought of how, if she _were_ insane, it was because he had driven her to it with his unorthodox methods that more often than not worked, his infuriating need for instant gratification, and his childish behavior that sometimes made her want to either sit him in a corner or turn his cute ass over her knee.

She leaned her forehead against the glass of the door, closing her eyes against the image of his eyes, glazed over with appreciative lust as he'd beheld her, partially naked for the first time. How gentle his hands were. How just thinking about his lips on her mouth and on her body turned her on. And now, tonight, there would be…more. More hands, more lips, more skin, more _him_.

_What the hell am I getting myself into?_

Patrick Jane was a mess in so many ways. Damaged goods, was what _he_ was, and that certainly was _not_ Lisbon's "type." Did she have the secret belief that she could fix him? She shook her head. No, that's not what she was doing here, and she wasn't dumb enough to think she could even if she wanted to. Jane's dragons were far beyond her abilities to vanquish. Could it be her biological clock ticking? She was approaching forty faster than she expected, and she was unmarried and childless. But was she ready to marry and settle down with a family? No, that wasn't it either. She'd already raised her brothers, so the desire for more children just wasn't really a goal she had for herself.

Was she lonely? _God, yes. _Her job filled her days, and occasionally her nights, but nothing could fill the empty place in her heart that was just waiting for someone to ask how her day was or fix her a peanut butter sandwich, or snuggle into her back in the middle of a cold night. Would Jane be able to do all those things for her?

_Yes,_ she realized. _Yes, he would, because he was as lonely as I am—maybe even more so._

He probably had a similar list himself, likely to do with tea and washing his back and picking up his dry-cleaning. If they were together, they would appreciate these little, everyday things that couples took for granted.

_That,_ she thought, _**that**__ is what I'm getting myself into. And it's what I deserve. What we __**both**__ deserve._

She wanted to see him happy, and maybe, if he had enough happy days, it would be enough for him, and he would naturally find a way to give up his rage. But she wouldn't actively try to change him, because Jane could only arrive at that conclusion on his own, and she was just setting herself up for heartbreak and disappointment if she made him her project. But she had faith in the man she knew he was inside, that someday that man would find closure. Lisbon had patience and knew the value of time, at least with most things. The fact that Jane had stopped them earlier from making an irrevocable mistake confirmed her belief that on some level, he actually understood that value, as well.

_See, there was hope for him yet._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, after dinner, Lisbon found Jane on the couch in the great room, dozing with _Field and Stream _on his chest. She understood now how little sleep he got at night, so she left him there to go find Sally and Sophia, who were busy with a puzzle on the card table in the game room. She'd gotten halfway down the hall when she heard Sophia scream. She picked up speed, reaching for her gun without thinking, racing to the large room at the end of the hall.

"No! Stop it, Bryan! Stop!" It was Sally's voice now.

Lisbon had imagined all kinds of things: a fight, a gun to someone's head—but what greeted her was beyond anything she'd imagined.

"Drop it! Now!" Lisbon yelled at Bryan Ernesto. The big man looked up at Lisbon, to see her gun aimed right at his head. He'd been in the process of beating his cousin, Oscar, with the stock of his antique Red Ryder BB gun. Oscar had apparently fallen from the barstool, for he was on the floor, trying in vain to cover his face. From her position in the doorway, Lisbon could see that Oscar's face was riddled with tiny, red-tinged dots—BB shots.

"Stay out of this, Teresa. He's only gettin' what's been coming to him for years." He raised the BB gun again.

"I said, stop!"

"Bryan, please," Sally said softly.

Lisbon heard Jane behind her, breathing audibly from his fast sprint down the hallway. Ernesto gave one last look of disgust at Oscar, and dropped the gun. Lisbon advanced on him, reaching into her blazer jacket pocket for her handcuffs.

"Bryan Ernesto, you're under arrest for assault, possibly attempted murder. You have the right—"

"No, don't, Agent Lisbon," Oscar said, rising unsteadily to his feet. "I won't be pressing charges."

"Sir, he was causing you bodily harm. He could have killed you."

Oscar snickered without humor. "If he'd wanted to kill me, he wouldn't be using a BB gun. There are plenty of rifles in this house."

"Nevertheless, I think, for your safety, we should confine him somewhere away from you until this fog lifts."

"No. I'll leave,"Oscar said.

"Where will you go?" asked Sally, her voice trembling. "You won't get anywhere in this fog."

"I'll go next door to the caretaker' cabin. The Joneses will take me in." Blood from his hairline was dripping down the side of his face.

Jane, seeing that everything was under control, came all the way into the room. He shot a pitying glance at Sally, whose tears trickled down her cheeks in a steady stream. Sophia looked like she was in shock. Arlin Hoyt, who had been frozen by shock himself, finally jumped off his barstool and went over to help his friend Oscar.

"I'll help him over there. But you're right, Agent Lisbon—you should definitely confine Bryan somewhere." He looked at Ernesto. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your mind?"

"He's sleeping with my wife, goddammit!"

"No!" Sally exclaimed. "I swear, Bryan, I've been faithful."

"Then why the hell did I see him kissing you on the boat ramp three days ago?"

Sophia, horrified to be witnessing her parents' psychotic breaks, made a sound of surprise, her eyes going back and forth among her three relatives. "I don't believe it. Uncle Oscar?"

Oscar hung his head in shame. "Yes, I kissed her. But she didn't kiss me back, even though I know she has feelings for me."

"She sure looked like she was kissing you back, to me," maintained Bryan Ernesto.

"Can't really blame him for trying to get Sally away from you," Jane decided to contribute. Of course, it was at a very inopportune moment. "You're nothing but an arrogant, jealous fool, aren't you Ernesto?"

"Jane—"began Lisbon, realizing that she would have a hard time restraining the big man without someone getting hurt if Jane pissed him off.

Jane raised his palms in a defensive position. "Just sayin'."

"You're not helping things. Mr. Ernesto, I'm going to have to handcuff you if I can't get a promise that you'll settle down. I don't want to have to do that, since you'll be stuck that way until I can get you off this island and into a jail cell. Now, give me your word you'll stay away from Oscar, can you do that?"

Ernesto looked at his wife, infinite sadness in his gaze, then his eyes shifted to the floor. "He's right. If I'd really wanted to kill the bastard, I would've gotten a real gun. But now I'm through. With both of them."

"Fine," Lisbon said, feeling great relief that she wouldn't have to handcuff the old guy to a toilet. "Why don't you go upstairs to your room and cool off."

"Can I take some booze with me? I'd really like to drink myself into a stupor."

"Bryan, no—"Sally began. Ernesto went back to the bar, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and left the game room without looking back at anyone.

Sally and Sophia were sobbing together, and Jane decided to impart his heartfelt words of wisdom.

"Now's your chance, Sally. Take it."

Sally looked up at Jane, nodded once, and took Sophia's hand. "Go be with your Daddy," she told her daughter. "He needs you right now."

"But, Mom—"

"Shh. Do as I say."

When Sophia had left, Sally turned to Jane. "Thanks, Patrick. And you, Teresa. I'm going to see if Oscar's alright."

Lisbon and Jane stood where they were until they heard the front door close.

"What the hell was that?" Lisbon asked rhetorically.

Jane bent over and picked up the discarded BB gun. It fell apart in his hands. "Shame about this. It would have been worth a lot on EBay. I'm thinking this must have had some symbolic meaning for the two cousins. Something unfinished from their childhood." He set the pieces of wood and metal up on the bar. "This is a blessing for Sally, though. Now she can be with the man she really loves and get away from that overbearing asshole she's married to."

"Sheesh," said Lisbon, clicking off the TV with the remote control. She looked around the beautiful room, with its hardwood floors and wall paneling, everything in the game room obviously expensive. "It's true what they say about money not buying happiness. The rich are just as screwed up as the rest of us."

Jane walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, looking deeply into her green eyes. "Lisbon, cynicism does not become you." He lifted her chin and pressed his lips briefly to hers.

"And you," Lisbon whispered, "I had no idea you were such a romantic."

He grinned at her, tracing her lips with one finger. "There are hidden depths within me you haven't even begun to plumb."

"Plumb? Really? Do you even know what that word-"

"Shut up, woman," he growled, before silencing her with his lips. She laughed against his mouth, but moaned a minute later, as he leisurely plumbed the hidden depths of her warm mouth.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon was deeply disappointed that her night of passion with Jane would have to be postponed. She felt they should stay alert in case Bryan Ernesto decided to pick up where he left off and decide to do more harm to Oscar. Arlin had shown Lisbon where the guns were kept, and they made sure the cabinet was locked and all guns accounted for. He made Ernesto hand over his keys.

Sally had stayed next door with Oscar, and Sophia and Bryan hadn't made an appearance since they went up to his room hours before. Arlin, Lisbon, and Jane agreed to stay awake in shifts.

"Why don't you get your shower," Jane suggested as they sat on the great room couch, Lisbon covering her mouth as she yawned. "I'll do our laundry.

"Would you? That would be great. I don't know why I feel so worn out. I haven't done anything for two days."

"It's been good for you. Now go. But don't use all the hot water."

She gave him a dirty look, then went down the hall. Jane sprang into action. First, he went upstairs to check their host. He peaked into the room to find Ernesto passed out on his bed, Sophia snoring softly on the couch nearby. The bottle of scotch was empty on the nightstand. _Good. Nothing to worry about here._

He went back downstairs and found Lisbon's clothing waiting for the wash. He shut their bedroom door, stripped down, put on his robe and rushed to the basement to throw their clothes in the machine. A minute later, and he was standing outside the bathroom door, picking the lock with an ice pick. It was thankfully one of those simple locks with a hole in the doorknob, requiring only a long, thin instrument to pop the lock through the hole. He glanced both ways down the hall, listening to the distant sound of Arlin watching yet another football game in the game room. He could hear the shower running, and Lisbon singing in that charming, off-key way she had.

Grinning in anticipation, he pocketed the ice pick and turned the doorknob. The room was already filled with steam, and he almost laughed aloud because the little minx probably had the hot water on full blast. The glass doors of the shower were fogged up, so unfortunately he couldn't admire his bathing beauty, but that would happen soon enough. He re-locked the door, removed his robe, and walked naked to the shower door. Up close, her singing was louder and even worse, but he could now see the outline of Lisbon, facing the spray of the showerhead, lathering up her hair. The scent of citrus filled the steamy air. It was time to make his move.

Slowly—he'd experimented earlier—he slid back the door just enough to slip inside. He almost gasped aloud as the hot water hit him, and he stood there a moment, hardly believing he was doing this, his heart pounding crazily as he admired Lisbon's small but shapely backside. He moved closer, his intention to embrace her from behind in a wet bear hug. Suddenly, he doubled over in pain as Lisbon's sharp elbow slammed into his side. She was about to deliver a Karate chop when Jane had the presence of mind to speak up.

"Son of a—Jesus! Lisbon, it's me!"

"Huh? Jane!" She rinsed her face of the shampoo that was dripping in her eyes and turned back to where he was now leaning against the shower wall, shaking with laughter and pain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, sneaking up on a cop like that? I could have killed you!"

"I was trying to surprise you! Damn," he laughed, "I think you broke a rib."

She slicked back her hair and moved closer to feel the extent of his injuries. He inhaled sharply when she found where she'd hit him, but he couldn't stop laughing, which, of course, just made it hurt worse.

"You surprised me, alright. I'm sorry I hurt you, but that is one of the stupidest things you've ever done." But her eyes softened, belying her harsh words.

"Now, I don't think _that's_ true," he contradicted with a smile. He watched in awe as she lowered her head to kiss his injured rib, and his residual laughter ceased at once.

"Is that better?" she asked. He shuttered at her touch, then his hands moved to her shoulders, and she stood straight up to look him in the eyes.

"Much," he breathed.

"Hey," she said, with a playful grin, "we're naked."

"Yeah. Imagine that."

Her brow creased in sudden concern. "Are you really alright?"

He grinned mischievously. "I don't know. You'd better check me over for other possible injuries, Agent Lisbon."  
"Shall I start with your mouth?" she asked with mock-innocence.

"Yeah, that'd be good." When their wet, naked bodies collided and their hot mouths fused, it was like nothing either of them had ever felt before. It was sensual, it was breathtaking, it was…like coming home.

"Hey," Jane said between urgent kisses. "We shouldn't waste all this hot water. Gimme the soap."

She raised an eyebrow, but reached to the built-in shelf in the shower wall and handed him a yellow bar that smelled of honeysuckle. They held each other's gaze as he lathered up his hands, but her eyes closed involuntarily when she felt his soapy hands running over her breasts. She had to grip his upper arms so she wouldn't melt to the floor.

"Oh, God…Jane."

His hands played over her like fingerpaints on a canvas, drawing sensual pictures on her stomach, then roaming lower, to the soft hair at the apex of her thighs. When he slipped in a finger, her hands went to his shoulders and her mouth found his. She shuttered and shook at his sweet invasion. He added another finger, and she groaned into his mouth, pulling away a minute to gasp for air, while the hot water sluiced over them. He felt her thighs begin to quake, so he slowed his movements, using his thumb to encircle her over and over. Seconds later, he was capturing her mouth again to swallow her cries of ecstasy. Her knees nearly buckled at the end, so he gathered her into his arms to hold her up as she continued to tremble from the aftershocks.

"Wow," she breathed into his wet shoulder. "Just…wow."

Jane stood there, holding her slippery body to his, touched beyond belief that he could make her feel that way, that he'd felt this strong woman come apart in his arms. He felt her tongue on his shoulder, tasting him there before sliding up his neck and back to his mouth. "Your turn," she whispered, reaching for the soap.

His eyes widened, and he felt himself growing harder as he wondered what she might have in store for him. When he felt her soapy hands surround him, he thought he might die from how amazing it felt. Instead, he moaned and grabbed hold of the safety bar for balance as she continued gliding up and down his length, leaning forward to flick his flat nipples with her tongue.

"Teresa…I'm not gonna last long if you continue to do that."

She chuckled, then suddenly released him and stepped aside so the water poured directly on him, washing the soap away. He jumped in surprise, sputtering. "What the—?"

When he looked at her again, she was on her knees before him, looking at him with emerald eyes, heavy lidded with passion. He thought it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen, and his heart lurched at her obvious intent.

"Lisbon, you don't have to do that…oh…God…"

She took him into her mouth and he thought he just might collapse at the feel of her tongue swirling around him. He tensed, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing against the wall, hands on the bar, puffing like a freight train. Her hands and mouth worked in tandem, and it wasn't long before she'd pushed him to the edge and over, and he gave a low moan of release. Spent, he allowed himself to slide helplessly down the wall to sit on the floor. She sat between his legs, leaning her back against his chest, as the warm water continued to shower them. His arms came around her and he pulled her closer, still, trying to catch his breath.

"Good Lord," he panted, "am I dead?"

She laughed languidly, picking up the soap from the floor and lathering up his hairy legs. "On the contrary, I think that confirms we are both very much alive." She lay back against him again, picking up each heavy arm and washing him like a baby. She turned around then and sat cross-legged before him, soaping his smooth chest and watching in fascination as his stomach muscles tightened reflexively at her touch.

"You really are trying to kill me, " he said, feeling the stirrings of arousal returning with her ministrations. He stayed her hands and lifted her chin so he could kiss her swollen lips. "Hey, I don't want you to think that I'm normally so…well, _quick._ It's just…"She delighted in his embarrassed blush. "…it's been a while…for me."

She brought her hand up to his stubbly cheek. "I know," she told him simply, her eyes filled with understanding. She brought up his left hand and kissed the silver band that glinted there. "You've had other things to do lately." He laced both hands with hers, and Jane felt his heart near bursting with love for this woman who knew him so well. He wanted to tell her, to say those three little words he hadn't said to anyone in nearly eight years. But his own realization of this feeling was too new, and he was too uncertain whether the sentiments were returned. He knew she cared for him, liked him, was obviously sexually excited by him, but he wasn't sure he saw love in those lovely green eyes of hers. So, he would wait for when he knew she felt it too. Many more encounters like this, and they'd both be literally screaming it from the rooftops.

Jane grinned at her, feeling the water temperature becoming decidedly uncomfortable. " I told you to not to use all the hot water. It's a little too late for a cold shower, I'm afraid." He stood up, helping her to her feet as well. He was starting to shiver, so he turned the water off completely. He stepped out ahead of her, grabbing a big, fluffy towel that he opened wide for her to step into.

"Come to bed with me," he whispered, nuzzling near her ear. "Sleep with me. I want to hold you all night in a warm bed."

She sighed as she watched him drying off with another towel from the rack. "We have guard duty, remember?"

"I checked on Ernesto before I snuck in here. He's passed out in his room, and he's gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow."

"Still—"

"Trust me. Aren't I usually right?"

She took the robe he handed her, then watched as he wrapped his towel around his waist. She admired his nicely shaped chest, arms, and abs. _How had he been hiding all that from me?_

"Lisbon?" She looked up from his sexy physique to find him grinning at her obvious distraction.

"Uh—sorry. I'm thinking about it."

"No, you were checking me out."

"Ha. In your dreams."

"Yes. Frequently."

They smiled at each other, liking that they could still tease and argue after experiencing such passion only minutes before. He reached out, pulling her closer to him by the ties of her robe.

"Repeat after me, " he coaxed, kissing the corners of her mouth. "I'm usually right."

"I'm usually right," she repeated obediently. He laughed at his miscalculation, punishing her for her smart mouth, attempting to kiss her into submission. He liked this new weapon to add to his "charm Lisbon" arsenal. She put her hands up to his chest, pushing him gently away so she could think to talk.

"Okay. You _are_ usually right, much as it pains me to admit. But if anything happens to Oscar, it's on you." Her hands slid to his trim waist, just above his towel.

"I take full responsibility. Now, are you gonna take me up on my offer?"

"Okay…Last one there is a rotten egg!" Lisbon took off for the door, Jane's towel now dangling from her hand. She let loose a girlish giggle at his surprised expression.

Jane scrambled for his robe, thinking of all the delicious ways he'd make her pay for that.

A/N: Murder case? What murder case? Yes, I've been sidetracked a little, but I hope you'll forgive me in exchange for all the Jisbon love. I'll get back to it soon, I promise. Hope you review, you nice people


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So great that people are asking me to update soon—I'm so flattered! It's been a busy week, so I took a little longer than I wanted to finish this chapter. I do so hope it was worth the wait. Yes, it does involve the case, but there's still plenty of Jisbon love. Please enjoy!

Chapter 8

Lisbon awoke to sunlight. A small shaft of its rays rested across her face from the crack between the curtains, and she realized with a tinge of sadness that the wind she'd heard in the night had likely blown the fog out to sea. Her time on this island with Jane, away from the real world, was over. She snuggled into his side, enjoying his body heat in the cool morning, determined to indulge as long as she could.

Last night in the shower had been…a revelation. She'd never felt that way with a man before, and they hadn't even had intercourse. She wondered if she'd be able to survive it if they did. He was so passionate, so giving. He seemed to anticipate her every desire, like he was reading her mind almost. She smiled. Lovemaking with a psychic definitely had its advantages.

They'd lain awake in the tiny twin bed last night, talking, joking, and teasing like they always had, but this time it was deeper; she felt more connected to him. Being the people they were, they both were still holding back on some things, but she knew it was just because everything was so new to them. It would take time to redefine their relationship, if that's what they were going to call it. She yawned a little, becoming drowsy again. Too early for labels…

Lisbon had drifted off when suddenly a flock of loudly quacking ducks flew over the clubhouse, startling both of them fully awake. She felt Jane's chest shift beneath her head, his arms stretching a little from their cramped position, then wrapping around her and pulling her closer. She felt him wince a little, knowing that there was a huge bruise on his right side from where she'd elbowed him in the shower.

"No," he said, his voice roughened from sleep. "It is not near day. It is the owl and not the duck that sings so out of tune."

She laughed at his mangled Shakespeare. "I don't think Romeo or Juliet were ever at a duck hunting club. I have to say though, you're very well-read for a circus performer," she quipped.

"I was carnie folk, my dear Lisbon. There's a difference. And I don't just sleep on my couch, you know. I have plenty of time to read the classics."

"Glad the State of California is getting its money's worth."

He laughed softly at their banter, kissing her sweet-smelling hair. He did wish they were listening to the owl that hooted all night in the eucalyptus tree, for like Romeo, he knew his night with his fair Juliet must end, and reality had returned in the guise of morning sunshine.

"I suppose we have to actually solve this case now," he sighed, trying not to sound so crestfallen at the idea. Normally, he enjoyed putting his skills to work, but he worried what it would be like when they left their little oasis. "My vote is for the occultists down the road. Their clubhouse is in the same direction from which the body was driven."

"Do we really have to talk about this yet?" She turned her head to glance at the digital clock. "It's only seven-fifteen."

"No. But there is something we _should _talk about. Where do we go from here? This—whatever it is—is not gonna fly with Hightower. It's Rigsby and Van Pelt all over again."

She probably shouldn't be so surprised that he was being so direct; he usually was about everything else. She'd already thought about this, being the logical girl she was.

"We keep it a secret." At his snort, she continued defensively: "I know it didn't work for them. But until we know where this is going, whether it was just island fever, let's not get too hasty by making some career-ending confession."

Jane lay there, feeling like she'd punched him in the gut. He knew it wasn't just the island that made him want to be with her. He was in love with her, and her words just confirmed for him that she wasn't quite there yet. He tried to get himself together, to draw from that well of patience he'd reserved for the important things, like vengeance.

"Are you a good enough actress, Lisbon? Your blushes always give you away."

She turned so she could look at his face, her hands folded before her on his chest. "You'll just have to try not to embarrass me, and have a strictly hands-off policy in the office."

He bent forward and surprised her with a series of light kisses. "See," he said, holding his hands up. "No hands."

She laughed. "No lips, either, smartass."

"Well, we're not in the office now," he whispered. He had her on her back with one swift movement, his body pinning her to the bed. Neither of them had bothered with pajamas the night before, and Lisbon gasped as she felt his desire. He'd restrained himself after a few kisses post-shower the night before, knowing that it would be very difficult to stop once he got started again. Something now, in the light of day, made him want to forget caution and common sense, to try to burn this time in her memory so she wouldn't back out or throw all of this away once they were back in Sacramento. He kissed her deeply, wanting her to feel his love even though he wasn't ready to say it. She was the one to put on the brakes this time.

"No. Jane, this is dangerous. Oh God—" He was rubbing against her, and it would only take one push to join them. Both of them were breathing heavily, and his hands were in her hair, his lips seeking hers. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and her feet tangled with his hairy legs. It was blissful and hot and his eyes were beautiful and pleading.

"I want you so badly it's killing me," he said urgently. "Please…"

Somewhere inside her, she found the strength to roll to the side, and slide off the bed, taking the comforter with her.

"We can't, Jane. As much as I'm aching to, we can't risk it. Let's get dressed, check on Oscar and Bryan, and finish this investigation, okay? I bet Cho is gonna call any minute anyway."

She watched as he lay there, only the sheet covering his lower half, his eyes closed, his chest rapidly rising and falling. His hand came up to cover his face in frustration.

He moaned. "Cho. Right. Way to put a damper on things. I'm sorry, Lisbon. You know how I am about self-control sometimes." He moved his hand to look at her. "I just don't want you to forget about us. About this."

His honesty surprised them both.

She leaned over him, her lips a breath away from his. "I won't if you won't. I don't want to forget. But things have to be the same in public. I'm not ready to—"

"I know. I get it. Off the island, we'll go back to being Agent Lisbon and the incorrigible consultant, Jane. I can do it if you can."

Lisbon dropped the comforter and slipped on her nightgown and robe while Jane smiled at her, taking in the view. She was petite, trim, but very strong, he knew. Whenever her small hands disappeared into his, he felt very manly, very protective. He liked that feeling; it had been awhile. But watching her was doing nothing for the problem in his nether regions, so he sat up in the bed himself, spying his robe on the floor.

Lisbon stood still to watch him emerge, naked, from the bed. He was beautiful, and when he'd covered her body with his larger, warmer one, she felt feminine and desired. She liked that feeling; it had been awhile. He caught her staring and grinned that devilish grin of his, making her want to do nothing more than climb back in that bed and let him take her over and over again, and damn the consequences.

"I'll go get our clothes out of the dryer," she said instead, trying to sound all business now. "Could you go up and check on our detainee?"

He grabbed her hand before she could reach the door. "Kiss me first, and I'll do whatever you ask."

She smiled. "I wish I'd thought of that a long time ago."

"Yeah, me too."

As he devoured her lips in a languid, lingering kiss, she flashed back to what he'd done to her in the shower, and decided that he was the one with all the power.

"Okay, down boy," Lisbon said a shaky minute later. So, before they ended up on the bed again, she slipped through the door and went down to get their clothes. She tried not to think about how she'd left him, eyes drowsy with desire, robe hanging open, hair tousled from sleep and from her fingers.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Uhhh…Lisbon! Could you come up here, please?" Jane yelled from Bryan Ernesto's upstairs bedroom. The millionaire was gone, and a look in the closet and drawers told him Ernesto had cleared out. He walked down the hall to what appeared to be Sophia's room. Empty, and emptied out as well. He heard Lisbon's quick feet on the stairs down the hall, so he went out of the girl's room to wait for her.

"What is it?" She asked, a little breathless. He was mildly disappointed to see she was dressed again, but he knew he'd never be able to look at her fully clothed without imagining her fully naked.

"They're gone. Both Ernesto and Sophia."

"What? How? And where's Arlin?"

As if on cue, Arlin Hoyt looked sleepily out of another bedroom down the hall. "What's up?"

Jane explanation woke Arlin up immediately, then he walked to the upper deck's French doors to look outside at the boat dock. The boat was gone too. "I went to bed late last night, and those two were still completely out. They must have left as soon as the fog lifted. Funny, I didn't hear the boat. Must have had too much scotch, I guess."

"We didn't hear anything either," said Lisbon, "but our room is at the other end of the clubhouse. And that wind was blowing really hard. Dammit! There go two possible suspects."

"Bryan and Sophia were suspects?" Arlin asked in disbelief.

"Everyone here is—_was_ a suspect. If any evidence points to them, it won't look too good that they left without telling me."

"Jane, get dressed. Let's go over and see if Sally and Oscar know anything."

Jane grinned, amused at the way she slipped so easily into cop mode. "Sure thing, Boss," he shot back, imitating the way the rest of the team usually addressed her. Her lips quirked in annoyance, but she didn't react with Arlin standing witness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sally and Oscar were clearly surprised when Lisbon told them about Bryan and Sophia. Their caretaker, however, was not.

"Yeah, I was up early," he told them. "I heard the boat leave about two hours ago."

"And you didn't bother to tell anyone?" Jane wondered aloud.

"He's my boss, Mr. Jane. Not my business to comment on his comings and goings."

Jane considered him a moment. "Why don't you like Bryan Ernesto?"

Jones looked surprised, then glanced hesitantly at the boss's wife sitting in the couch across from him. Oscar sat next to Sally, his face and hands bruised from his beating the day before.

"I don't like the way he's treated Mrs. Ernesto, is all."

"Awww," Jane uttered noncommittally.

"I'll need Bryan and Sophia's cell phone numbers, if you have them Sally," said Lisbon. "Maybe you could try them first."

"Sure." She reached for her purse near her feet and pulled out her own phone. After a couple of tries, she looked troubled because there was no answer. "They probably don't want to talk to me right now," Sally said sadly. She reached into her bag again and jotted down the numbers on the back of one of Ernesto's business cards.

"I'm gonna have to ask that none of you leave here until we give the word, okay? This is still a murder investigation. Oh, and I'll need to examine any vehicles you have here."

"Whatever you need, Teresa. There's a pickup truck and a Hummer parked in the garage next door. They should be unlocked. Aside from the boat when it's here, that's all our transportation."

Lisbon thanked them and she and Jane walked out of the caretakers' cabin and down the gravel road a little way to a garage. They could see the island much more clearly now, and the sun and sky promised a beautiful day. The wind had died down, and it was a chilly November morning, but they were both comfortable enough in their lightweight jackets.

"It's really pretty here," Lisbon commented, breathing deeply. The tule grass and cattails grew high along the water, and the gently rolling hills across the slough were golden in the sun. Behind the clubhouse, where the levees had been opened for hunting season, it was like a large lake, and hundreds of ducks and other water fowl floated, squawked, and flew. Deep green ice plant covered every other surface that wasn't man made or under water.

"Yes, it is," Jane said, but he was looking at Lisbon, not their surroundings. She blushed, and he laughed. "You'll have to do better than that around the office. Cho will have us figured out with one glance."

"Don't look at me that way and I'll have a much easier time hiding it."

He wanted to kiss her right then, but he knew the caretakers' cabin had a huge bay window that overlooked right where they were walking.

"I can be good…if you'll be _bad_ when we're alone."

"Deal," she murmured, risking a suggestive look his way. He grinned happily.

They checked the vehicles and saw no obvious blood evidence; it would have to be thoroughly searched by forensics when they got here. Jane sniffed around and found nothing that raised any red flags.

"I guess we could walk to the next club, question those people there," suggested Lisbon.

"It looks like it's only about a mile down this road. You up for a stroll?"

"Sure. I was getting cabin fever, so a walk actually sounds good."

They walked in silence along the narrow road. Jackrabbits and birds darted out of their way, and the occasional fish jumped in the slough beside them. It was nice to be outside, far away from other people and the city. When they were out of sight of the West Wind, Jane quietly took Lisbon's hand.

The Hidden Cove Hunting Club soon loomed before them. The club house itself didn't seem as nice as The West Wind, but its location was more beautiful. It was a cove, as the name suggested, darker and more mysterious with tall eucalyptus trees, and a small, sandy beach surrounded by the ever present tule grass and ice plant. A small boat dock projected out into the slough, but there was no boat there. Jane and Lisbon realized this at the same time, so they didn't feel too confident there would be anyone there to question.

An old black Labrador retriever came from around the back of the caretakers' cabin, its muzzle nearly white, its old legs plagued with arthritis. It barked halfheartedly, then wagged its tail as Jane called calmly too it, holding out his hand to be sniffed.

"I bet you were a good old hunter in your time," Jane said, kneeling down on the porch as the dog licked at his face. He scratched behind its ears.

"Poor thing. Looks like he's in pain." Lisbon patted its head and went to the cabin door, knocking loudly. The door creaked opened as her fist pressed against it.

"Hello?" she inquired, her hand on her gun. "Anyone home?"

She looked at Jane. "Did you hear someone calling for help?" Of course, neither of them had, but they needed probable cause to enter without a warrant.

"Yeah. You first." Jane, always the chicken in such instances, hung back behind the woman with the gun.

"CBI. I'm coming in," she announced in her official voice. Then the smell hit them both.

"Geeze! Lisbon, there's something dead in here." Jane covered his nose with his arm, and they walked further into the cabin. They found the body in the kitchen. A thin man in his early forties lay on the floor, a gunshot wound in his forehead. His empty, gray eyes stared straight up. From the looks of the food on counter, he'd been in the middle of fixing a sandwich.

"From the stiffness of the body and the condition of the cheese and lunchmeat here, I'd say day before yesterday. Probably about the time of the warden's murder. Looks like a shotgun wound too. Whoever did this was a good shot. I don't think they were at extremely close range. Maybe on the other end of the living room."

Jane knelt down beside the body. "I wonder if this is David? The Ernesto's mentioned his name, remember? Said his girlfriend…Crystal, had disappeared. I think he must have known his killer. Everything around him seems in perfect order. He wasn't trying to rush for his gun or anything." He nodded to where a rifle was hanging by a strap on the wall.

Lisbon pulled out her phone. "We need Cho and Rigsby out here." While she punched in Cho's number, Jane began looking around. On every shelf and table were crystals, candles, and books with new-agey titles. He even found a few on witchcraft.

"Sally was right about these two," he said to himself. "Creepy." He wandered through the other rooms, opening closets, peeking in drawers.

"Cho's gonna get the sheriff and the other wardens to bring him and Rigsby out here by speedboat. He also just got the coroner's report, so he's bringing that with them. Should be a half hour or so," Lisbon called from the living room, pocketing her phone. "Find anything interesting?"

"I don't think they were too serious about the occult. Just dabblers, I'd guess. Crystal's clothes are still hanging in the bedroom closet. Not the thing a murderer would keep in the house he shared with her, unless he was feeling very guilty about what he'd done."

"The question now is, who would kill this man, and then a warden? Any ideas, Jane?"

He thought a moment of all the people they'd met in the last two days. "I have the kernel of an idea, but I need to talk to some more people first. You?"

"Not a clue. Let's go outside and wait. It stinks in here."

"Just a sec," Jane said, going back into the kitchen. He found a large bag of dog food by the front door, and, picking it up, followed Lisbon out the door. The dog wagged its tail excitedly as Jane found its bowl and refilled it. He turned on a nearby hose and gave it fresh water too.

"Poor doggy," Lisbon said. "Look, he's starving." She walked over to where Jane was dusting off his hands. "You are such a softy," she said, draping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him before he could reply. He kissed her back with some urgency, knowing that once Cho and Rigsby arrived, it would be some time before he'd have her alone like this again.

"I guess our first test will be arriving on a boat in about twenty minutes," he said, playing with a lock of her sable hair. "You ready?"

"Yes. I took drama in high school. I'm ready."

This sparked Jane's interest. "Drama _and_ band. My, but your plate was full," he teased. Before she could punch his arm in outrage, he continued: "So, what was your favorite part to play?"

She grinned mysteriously, her hands still on his shoulders, his nearly encircling her tiny waist. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, Lisbon. That's why I asked," he said with mock condescension.

"Guess."

"Really? Why can't you just tell me? I mean, I still don't even know what instrument you played. We need to start building the trust in our relationship."

"Okay. I _trust_ that you can't guess correctly."

"Ha. Very amusing." He paused, pulling deeply from his mentalist's intuition. "Let me think about this. The obvious ones are Juliet, Lady Macbeth, or Emily in _Our Town."_

She shook her head emphatically. "Definitely no Shakespeare. And I never was a fan of Thornton Wilder."

"Hmmm…Abigail from _The Crucible_? Laura from _The Glass Menagerie?"_

"Wrong and wrong."

They bantered back and forth like this, Jane briefly trying to kiss the answer from her, Lisbon not giving anything away, but returning his kisses nonetheless. She knew he was like a dog with a bone when he couldn't figure something out, and she'd set herself up for endless amusement at his guesses.

It didn't seem long before they heard the motor of an approaching speedboat. They disentangled themselves from one another reluctantly, their eyes abruptly serious and a little sad. Moving apart a professional distance, they walked together to the dock to welcome their inadvertent interlopers.

A/N: This may end up being longer than I intended, because I've added more to the dang murder case, lol. If you haven't gotten a reply from me after you've reviewed, it's because you haven't logged in! I love to communicate with you readers, and I feel like I've found some new friends. Thanks so much for taking the time to let me know what you think. You all rock!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I've received more reviews for this story than any other I've ever written—thanks so much for all your gracious support! I'm always so excited to check my e-mail for reviews. If you haven't read chapter 8 yet, I posted it on Friday, so you might want make sure you're caught up before you proceed. Well, this chapter deals mainly with the murder case, just to appease those who actually care, lol. I admit, I'm always more interested in the relationship stuff and Jane's antics than the actual murder mysteries on the show. That being said, I still hope this keeps your interest…

Chapter 9

Wayne Rigsby was the first to step out of the boat once it bumped against the dock. The tall, gangly agent's face lit up upon sight of his boss and colleague waiting for them at the end of the wooden dock.

"Ahoy!" he called. Jane smiled, preparing himself for more corny nautical references that were sure to come. Stevens, the Fish and Game warden came next, tying up the speedboat, while the other passengers, Sheriff Martin and Kimball Cho, disembarked before him. Cho's eyes lit with mirth, belying his otherwise calm demeanor, as he beheld his two coworkers for the first time in days. Neither of them seemed the worst for wear. It had amused him to no end the thought of poor Agent Lisbon, stranded on this island for two days with a man she clearly found annoying most of the time. Of course, he and Rigsby had made bets about whether or not they'd still be on speaking terms.

"Glad you could make it," Lisbon said, happy to see more of her team, despite the intrusion on her idyllic time with Jane. She got right to business. "Body's in the kitchen in the small cabin. I'm guessing it's David Hoffman, the caretaker of this club. Rigsby, Cho, find his key to the clubhouse, and one of you call Van Pelt and have her run a background on him. Any chance you called forensics?"

"Yeah," responded Cho, "They're on their way."

"I saw keys and a wallet on the dresser in the bedroom," Jane told Rigsby helpfully. He called his thanks and Jane and Lisbon turned to the sheriff.

"I thought you said you'd gone to the clubs around the West Wind, Sheriff. How is it you didn't find Hoffman's body?"

"Because we didn't get to this club before the fog rolled in." He obviously didn't like Lisbon's accusatory tone. "We were systematically searching and questioning from the West Wind back to the other clubs to the north. The Hidden Cove was next. Remember, it was Thanksgiving, and it was only me and Lyle doing the investigating, and he's not even a trained officer. That's why we called you guys, remember?"

She eyed him, still a little skeptical that he hadn't thought to search the West Wind's nearest neighbor to the south. She felt Jane nudging her and glanced his way. "He's telling the truth," he told her softly. She nodded.

"Sorry to question you, but everyone on this island's a suspect. You understand, I'm sure."

The sheriff seemed to accept her apology, for he inclined his head slightly.

At that moment, Cho emerged from the cabin carrying a key ring. He met the rest of the group at the Hidden Cove's front door. He tried three keys before he found the right one, and he pushed the door open. The club was empty, and looked like it hadn't seen hunters lately. Cho and Lisbon did a quick search, and seeing nothing amiss, declared the place clean.

Jane ran a finger over a dusty table. "Not exactly clean. This house hasn't seen a woman's touch in awhile."

"Now that's a very sexist thing to say, Jane," Lisbon said in annoyance.

Jane grinned. "Don't get your hackles up, Miss Liberated. Just sayin' that Crystal likely was responsible for keeping the club clean, and she apparently hasn't been here to do her job in awhile."

Outside again, Cho went back to the boat and got the coroner's report. Lisbon opened the manila envelope, scanning the analysis and final opinion.

"He died from the chest wound, simple as that. No foreign substances in the body."

"Except for the bullet," Jane muttered.

Cho almost smiled.

Lisbon ignored them and addressed the warden. "Anyone you can think of who might have it in for Hoffman?"

Jane noted how the man hesitated. "Say the first person who comes to mind. Instinct is often correct in these situations."

"I'd say his girlfriend, Crystal—don't know her last name. Word around was that she was a witch, if you believe in that sort of thing."

"What, you think she was trying to turn him into a toad?" Jane asked ironically. "That was no magic spell that killed David Hoffman. Unless that was a magic bullet that went through his forehead."

"The Ernesto's said she hadn't been seen in awhile," Lisbon interrupted. "Have you seen her lately?"

"Yes, about a week ago, in a bar in Fairfield. Funny thing was, she was with someone, and it wasn't Hoffman. I'd forgotten all about that till now."

"Did you know this person?" asked Jane, as if on the cusp of a revelation.

"Yeah. It was old Smitty. You know, the caretaker of the West Wind?"

Jane and Lisbon looked at each other, then back at Stevens. "Jerry Smith?"

"That's him."

"I think we'll need to question old Smitty a little more," said Jane, a knowing smile on his face. Then they remembered that their three new friends were over at the West Wind alone with a possible murderer.

"Mr. Stevens, could you drive us in the boat back over to the West Wind?"

"Sure thing."

"You coming, Sheriff?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Rigsby!" yelled Lisbon. He appeared at the cabin door. "Stay here. We're going to the club a mile north of here."

"Okay, Boss."

The remaining five climbed back into the boat, and Stevens untied it, then pulled back out into the slough. They'd gone about a half-mile when they saw the West Wind's pickup driving toward the Hidden Cove, going faster than was advisable on the narrow gravel road. Jerry Smith was at the wheel.

"Dammit! He's leaving. Turn around, see if we can get back before he does." Stevens made a sharp u-turn, the water churning and splashing around them. Lisbon pulled out her phone and pressed the speed-dial for Rigsby, holding on to the boat at the same time.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Rigsby, get outside and stop that truck! Now!"

"Huh?" She could hear him moving into action. Looking ahead, she saw him come out of the cabin again and run up the gentle incline. He stood in the middle of the road, pointing his gun Clint Eastwood style as the truck rounded the last curve before the clubhouse. Smith skidded on the gravel, turning sharply to the right to avoid Rigsby, who bravely stood his ground. Smith lost control and ran off the lake side of the levee road, plunging the truck nose first into three feet of water. Rigsby, gun still out, stood and watched as Smith pushed open the door and jumped out into the cold, murky water.

"You need help climbing back up here?" He asked the man, keeping his gun trained on him. He was awkwardly slogging through the water, then climbing up the side of the levee, blood running down his forehead where he'd banged it on the steering wheel.

"What the hell were you doing standing in the road like that? I almost ran you down, boy! And look what you've done to my goddamn truck!"

By this time, the others had made it back in the boat and were running up the ramp, having seen everything up until the truck went off the road.

"She said stop it, not crash it," Cho said dryly, leaning down to give Smith a hand up through the tule grass.

"What the hell is this all about, Agent Lisbon? Why was this guy trying to kill me?" Panting heavily after his exertions, he shot a murderous look at Rigsby,

"Nicely done, Wayne," said Jane, clamping him on the shoulder. "And your outrage is nicely done too, Smitty."

The older man stood on the road now, Rigsby still holding his weapon while Cho quickly searched him. He held up a pistol he'd taken from the man's coat pocket.

"Mr. Smith, why were you leaving when I distinctly told you and the others to stay at the West Wind? This is a murder investigation. We were just on our way to ask you a few more questions." The Sherriff pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Smith.

"The fog cleared out, and the wife needed some supplies from town. With the boat gone, I had to use the truck to drive off the island." He dabbed gingerly at his cut.

"Why did you need a gun to drive into town?" asked Cho.

Smith had no answer for that.

"He was on his way to see Crystal, I'm guessing," said Jane. "And if you look in his pickup, you'll likely find some luggage too. He was making his getaway."

"Get away? From what? I was going to the grocery store."

"Cuff him, Cho," said Lisbon. "Let's get him back to the West Wind. I trust Sally and the others are okay back there?"

"What? Why wouldn't they be? I'd never hurt anyone."

"No, but you'd try to protect someone else who was getting hurt, wouldn't you?" Everyone looked at Jane as the pieces began falling into place-or everyone but Rigsby, that is. Having been left out of a few key conversations, he stood askance as the others began walking back to the boat.

"I'll fill you in later," Cho said over his shoulder, holding their damp prisoner by one arm. Rigsby shrugged and watched them speed away.

"Why do I always get the crap detail?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At the Solano County Sheriff's Department, Cho settled in for his favorite thing—the interrogation.

They'd allowed Jerry Smith to grab a change of clothes at his cabin, then Sally had bandaged his forehead while Smith's wife sat on the couch, crying hysterically.

Lisbon had tried to calm her, to no avail, until Sally finally took her to another room.

"You might want to help her get a lawyer for her husband," Jane advised Oscar before they left.

Cho took out a small voice recorder from the duffle bag he'd brought, while Lisbon, Jane, and the sheriff watched through the one-way glass.

"Why were you leaving the island? And we're not buying that story about a trip to the grocery store. It had to do with Crystal Hyatt, didn't it?"

"I want to talk to my lawyer."

"I bet he'll be here any minute. I'm not pressuring you to answer. You can just sit there in silence while I offer some suggestions. You were going to meet Crystal at whatever hotel she's hiding at to let her know they'd found Hoffman's body, and that you were afraid they'd blame you. You met her in a bar last week, she gave you some sob story about how her boyfriend was abusing her, and you bought it. When she shot Hoffman, she called you for help. By the time you got there, she'd shot the warden because he'd heard the first shot and had stopped to investigate. You conspired with Crystal to take the body to the West Wind to try to frame Bryan Ernesto for the murders. Is that about right?"

"How did you-? I'm not talkin'."

"That's okay. I think I've got it figured out. Agent Lisbon and Jane mentioned you didn't like Ernesto much. Said he wasn't treating his wife right. You wanted to set him up, plant some evidence, but he found you with the body before you could do that. You had to lie and say you'd just found the warden, while Crystal snuck back to the Hidden Cove. The fog was coming in and further messed up your plans to set things up at the Cove, that along with the arrival of the sheriff, the wardens, and the CBI. All you did have time to do was clean up your truck, hide the murder weapon, and tell Crystal to leave in the Hidden Cove's boat before she was stranded there."

Smith sat in silence, surprised no doubt by how close to the truth Cho had come.

"We pulled up your phone records," Cho continued. " They're very damning. If you cooperate with us now, help us find Crystal, we might be able to help you with a deal."

Smith sat there distraught, looking down, then looking up again at the agent who had neatly summed up everything. He sighed and began to talk: "I just knew Hoffman was into some weird stuff. Crystal showed me scars from him burning her and cutting her to get her blood. She said he did bizarre sexual things to her. Said he was a warlock. I didn't believe that of course. He was just a perverted freak, taking advantage of an innocent girl."

"Uh-huh. And you wanted to frame Ernesto because his wife was unhappy. You're like Superman, always saving the day." His dry sarcasm earned him a bitter look from Smith.

"Someone has to protect our women these days. Why do you think I took that job on the island? I couldn't stand what was going on in the cities. I don't even watch the news anymore. Then I find this sick behavior in my own backyard, and I realized there was nowhere I could go to escape it."

"You're a real hero. Where's Crystal?"

Beaten by the best, Smith relented and gave the name of a hotel in Sacramento.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Damn, that guy's good," commented the sheriff from behind the window, referring to Cho.

"The best,"agreed Lisbon.

"Smitty there lives strictly by the chivalric code," Jane remarked. "Cho wasn't too far from the truth about him- he's not so much Superman as a modern day King Arthur, though, rescuing damsels in distress, slaying dragons and all that. Too bad he'll be punished for it."

"Maybe he won't serve time," Lisbon said. "juries can be sympathetic about cases like this."

They watched Cho finish up his questioning, then Lisbon turned to the sheriff. "Hey, can you tell me how to drive back on to the island? I hear there are locked gates along the way, so I'll need the combinations. We've still got a guy out there, and I wanted to thank Sally in person for her hospitality."

"Sure thing. I'll call Lyle Stevens and get back with you."

"Thanks."

Alone for the first time in hours, Jane was dying to take Lisbon in his arms, but he'd promised to be good. Instead, he settled for a light, friendly touch on the arm, but the smoldering look he sent her was far more than friendly.

"I've missed you," he whispered.

"Me too. Now stop saying things like that or I'll push you up against that wall and have my way with you."

She'd surprised him with her soft, seductive words, and he suddenly felt very warm in the close room. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he'd ever imagined.

"I thought we were going to try to be good," he accused. "If you continue in this vein, I won't be responsible for my actions."

She chuckled. "Just testing you. You're behaving quite well…so far." Up until then, there'd been no inadvertent touching, or pulling her into a supply closet, or longing looks from across the room. He was indeed on his best behavior.

Cho came out of the interrogation room, his unemotional face concealing the extreme satisfaction he always felt when he broke down a suspect.

"Good job, Cho," Jane said. "I had a feeling he was the one earlier when I heard his feelings about Ernesto and his wife. That kind of hero complex makes a man do crazy things."

"Yeah. I almost feel sorry for him." He looked at Lisbon. "You want me to send someone to pick up Crystal Hyatt?"

"Get on that will, ya? Jane and I are driving back out to get Rigsby. The forensics guys are likely to be there awhile, and I think he's anxious to get off the island."

"He told me on the phone it was too quiet, and he was starving to death. City boy," said Cho derisively. He brushed past them and went to finish his next task.

"Thank you for inviting me back to the island, Lisbon. I would also like to say goodbye to the Ernesto's."

"I thought you might."

She grinned knowingly and preceded him out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon stopped the SUV in the middle of the levee road, far from the view of anyone for miles. The sheriff had passed along the information that it took about a half hour to drive around the island to reach the West Wind, which is why in the flooded months, it was faster to travel by boat. She turned off the engine and turned to Jane. They looked at each other, then simultaneously unbuckled their seatbelts and threw themselves into each other's arms, fighting for closeness over the gear shift and the cup holders that separated them.

Their lips met in a hungry, deprived kiss, and the small enclosure echoed with their soft gasps and moans of thanksgiving.

"We could get in the back seat," Jane breathed between kisses. "Lots we could do in the backseat."

"No. Rigsby's expecting us. If we're gone too long, he might send out a search party. I just had to stop a minute and touch you…taste you."

His tongue entered her mouth and she lightly suckled it, inducing another passionate sound from the back of his throat. His hands pulled her head closer so he could further persuade her of the downsides of bucket seats. Things heated up at an alarming rate between them, but Lisbon could not be compelled, even as the gearshift dug into her stomach.

"Okay…I think I can get on with the rest of the drive now." She abruptly released him and sat back in her chair, trying to catch her breath, bringing down the sunshade to check herself out in the mirror. He narrowly avoided falling hard on the shift, catching himself on the dashboard at the last minute before throwing himself back into his seat.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a major tease? You'd better take it slow on this drive, give me time to calm down or everyone will know what we've been up to—or _almost_ up to."

She smiled, her face flushed with unfulfilled desire, then re-started the vehicle.

"Buckle up, Jane," she ordered, driving on with both hands on the wheel.

"You're a stronger man than I, Teresa Lisbon." She only laughed in response.

"Tease,"she heard him repeat under his breath, but he was smiling when he said it.

TBC

A/N: Hope I did an okay job of wrapping up the case. This is my first case fic, so please forgive any loose ends or holes in the plot. I've written mysteries for my other stories, but those characters never had to follow the law, lol. I already know some things I would go back and restructure, but too late now. The case was, of course, a way to get these two alone on an island, specifically, this island, a fond memory from my childhood. There is one more chapter to go, which will allow them closure on the case and with the Ernesto's, and take them back to Sacramento. I'm hoping to write a sequel, if the interest is there. Please let me know if it is worth doing. Thanks in advance for any reviews you might bless me with. Stay tuned for the concluding chapter, coming soon!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Well, here it is at last: the conclusion. I've had a lot of fun writing this, and you great readers and reviewers have given me confidence when I was feeling that I hadn't quite found these characters' voices. Now, my mind is just bursting with ideas, and I hope to share them with you soon. Please enjoy this last chapter—it's a little silly, a little fluffy, but ultimately, a labor of love from me to you.

Chapter 10: Conclusion

Sally and Oscar had moved back over into the clubhouse with Arlin, since the caretaker's cabin was now part of a crime scene. Sally welcomed Lisbon and Jane with literally open arms. They hugged her back warmly. Once they'd updated her on the Smith situation, Lisbon inquired after Bryan and Sophia.

"Sophia called me earlier," Sally told them softly, as they all sat on the leather couches in the great room. "I don't know if she'll ever forgive me. She thinks I've been cheating on her father."

"I'm sorry," said Lisbon simply.

"I've called a lawyer to start divorce proceedings. I can't live this way anymore." She took the hand of Oscar, who had been sitting loyally beside her. She caught Jane's eye, and he nodded at her in encouragement.

"I hope you will find some peace now," Jane said. He wished he could share the news about himself and Lisbon, but with her right next to him, he'd have to continue to keep mum on the happiest thing that had happened to him since the birth of his daughter.

"You too, Patrick. Sometimes we wear wedding rings and they somehow lose their true meaning along the way. Someone doesn't keep their vows, or stops loving you…or dies. It's not supposed to be that way."

"No," said Jane, understanding her meaning completely. "It isn't."

"Thank you again for everything, Sally," Lisbon said, rising to leave. "You made us feel right at home. If you ever need anything, or are in Sacramento, look us up at CBI Headquarters."

Sally and Lisbon rose and exchanged hugs. Lisbon and Jane had felt like part of this family for two days, and they were both surprised at how much they were truly going to miss them.

"Tell her how you feel," Sally whispered in Jane's ear as he held the older lady gently in his arms. "Time is precious, Patrick."

He kissed her cheek fondly, shook the hands of Oscar and Arlin, and left the West Wind behind with Lisbon to drive down to the Hidden Cove. They were silent during the short drive, knowing that this truly was the end of their stay on Grizzly Island. It had been a life-altering experience for both of them, and now they began to wonder how much their lives would be altered _off _the island. They each felt a little shy, a little uncertain, so they were secretly glad to have Rigsby as a buffer on the drive home.

Rigsby was sitting in the Fish and Game's boat, sunning himself and waiting for his colleagues to arrive. When he heard the approaching SUV, he stood up in the boat with a wide grin.

"Avast, ye landlubbers!" he called, sounding like Johnny Depp without the drunken slur.

Jane grinned, amused at how right he had been earlier. "Aye, me hearty! Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen, or we'll hang ye from the yardarm!" he called back, adopting his own piratical drawl.

"Huh?"

"He said to get your ass up here. Let's go." This from Lisbon, who was trying not to grin at the humorous exchange.

While Rigsby was jumping out of the boat and taking the dock ramp in two long strides, Jane turned to Lisbon and caught her eye. "How'd you like to scrape the barnacles off of me rudder?" he growled at her under his breath, his eyes sparkling.

She stifled a surprised snort of laughter at his naughtiness, and she was relieved that their brief foray into melancholia had dissipated with Jane's unique ability to ease the tension. With a wave to the forensics team, Lisbon drove the SUV past the Hidden Cove, as Jane entertained Rigsby with the finer points of the pirate pick-up line.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Upon hearing that Crystal Hyatt had been picked up by the local police, Cho had headed back to Sacramento, so by the time the rest of the team had assembled at Headquarters, he was already preparing to question her.

Jane watched another stellar performance by their chief interrogator, as the woman, in her spiky jet-black hairdo and crystal pendant necklace broke down with very little pressure. She admitted to being Wiccan, but had been horrified by the blood play and torture David had put her through in the total bastardization of their peaceful religion. He didn't point out the irony that she'd shot him in the head with a 12-guage. This, along with Jerry Smith's testimony, would make it easy for the AG to charge Crystal with murder one.

Van Pelt was still visiting her family out of town, so she wouldn't be back until Monday, but Lisbon was grateful that Cho and Rigsby had agreed to work on a Saturday without any complaining. She felt a little out of sorts around them, nervous that their keen detective skills would see that she had to exercise extreme restraint not to reach for Jane's hand or undress him with her eyes. Indeed, she had to forcefully suppress the memories of their time on the island every time she looked at him. Jane, on the other hand, was infuriatingly cool as a cucumber. He was acting so damn normal she wanted to punch him in the nose.

Late that afternoon, while Cho and Rigsby worked on their case reports at their desks in the bullpen, Jane wandered casually into Lisbon's office. It certainly wasn't an unusual thing for him to do, but her emotional state made his presence there seem unaccountably illicit. Sensing her discomfort, he pointedly left the door open and made himself at home on her couch.

"How are you holding up?" Jane asked, enjoying the way she flushed a little at his presence. He watched as she swallowed hard before answering.

"This really sucks," she said simply, eyes darting guiltily to the glass windows that made up her office. "How the hell did Rigsby and Van Pelt hide it from everyone?"

Jane chuckled. "They didn't. Everyone in the entire CBI knew, except maybe their top agent in the Serious Crimes Unit. Even Hightower figured it out and she'd only been here less than a week. Although…I suspect you _did _actually know, but were just suppressing it because you're such a romantic at heart."

"I am not."

Jane's answer was a wide grin, and Lisbon couldn't help her reluctant smile of agreement. "I'm not sure I can go on with this. It's too hard."

"Well, here's what you've been doing wrong. First, don't picture me naked every time you look at me."

"I do not—"

He raised an eyebrow at that, but otherwise ignored the interruption. "Second, don't look everywhere _but_ at me. That is a textbook indicator of a guilty conscience."

"If you start belting out _People Will Say We're in Love, _you'll have a stapler between your eyes."

He smiled indulgently. "You must have taken classes on human behavior at the Academy. All of this is simply a matter of self-control. We're already used to keeping our true natures from the rest of the world, you and I," he said, suddenly serious. "We can do this. It's worth it…isn't it?"

His stomach clenched as she sat in her chair, seeming to consider what he said. Had she been the one to ask him, his answer would have been an immediate _hell yes! _But as the seconds ticked by, he began to feel a disappointment so keen he felt like crying. Had he fallen in love after all these years of loneliness and self-loathing only to have his heart stomped on by a diminutive woman half his size? Her eyes held his, and for once, he couldn't read her at all. Her face was a complete blank. He wanted to look away, but something kept him riveted, like a motorist staring at a roadside accident.

"Yes," she whispered at last, "yes, it is."

Jane's heart jumpstarted like he'd been pumped with electricity. His grin came slowly, starting with his mouth before working its way up to light up his eyes. He nodded in reluctant admiration.

"Very good, Lisbon. You had me going there a minute. See, you _can_ keep a secret—even from me, apparently."

She grinned. "You should have seen your face. You had no idea what I was thinking."

He felt like throttling her for toying with his emotions that way. But mostly, he felt like kissing her senseless. It took everything in him not to rise and go around her desk and do just that, but the walls were made of glass and the door to her office was wide open. It was a good thing Cho arrived when he did, a manila folder in hand.

"Boss, I need you to sign off on this report. Then, if there's nothing else…"

"Of course. You and Rigsby can go on home. Thanks for your hard work and overtime."

While Lisbon was scanning the report, Jane smiled at his other coworker. "Hot date?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

Of course, this was a running joke between them. Cho knew damn well that Jane didn't date, but this time, Jane's involuntary hesitation had the younger agent's gaze sharpening. Out of the corner of Jane's eye, he saw Lisbon freeze, and he'd bet a million dollars she was no longer reading Cho's case report. Recovering quickly, Jane gave his usual tongue-in-cheek answer:

"Of course. It's Saturday night, isn't it?"

Cho nodded, lips quirking in appreciation of the humorous exchange. "Well, don't wear the poor girl out." Jane thought Lisbon was going to break her pen in two.

"You either, Kimball." And he gave his sunniest smile.

Lisbon hurriedly signed the report and held it out to Cho, trying hard not to show how anxious she was for him to leave. "Enjoy the rest of your weekend," she said pleasantly enough.

"Thanks. You too, Boss. Jane." He nodded at them and went on his way.

"What the hell was that?" Lisbon asked between gritted teeth.

Jane laughed, happy to relieve his own tension. "It's called male bonding. It's our little bit we do every weekend."

"Well, I think it's mean, given your…situation." Her eyes darted to his wedding band, and he was a little surprised at her genuine anger, her outrage, for _him. _Surprised, _and_ warmed to his toes.

"Lisbon, I figured you'd lived and worked with enough men in your time to know that we tend to laugh at the stuff that hurts the most. Besides, it's just Cho's way of checking in with me. If I'm still laughing, he knows I'm okay."

"I guess that sounds like man logic. But I still think it's a little insensitive."

Jane rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started on _woman _logic."

They regarded each other with half-smiles.

"So," Jane said after a moment of companionable silence. "How about you?"

"How about me what?"

"Hot date?"

She was sitting back in her chair, elbows on the arm rests, index fingers pyramided in front of her.

"I don't know," she responded coyly, "no one's asked me yet."

"Hmmm. Really? I'm surprised. Hot chick like you. Alone on a Saturday night."

"Yeah. It boggles the mind, just like it does _every_ Saturday."

Abruptly, he rose from the couch and headed for the door. "Well, good-night, Lisbon. See ya later." And then he was gone. She stood up and watched his blonde head move above the potted plants on the way down the hall to the elevator.

_Huh? See ya later? We just spent two glorious days on an island together and he says 'see ya later'? _

If there weren't still a few people in the office, she'd chase after him and give him a piece of her mind. Instead, she plopped back in her chair in annoyance. Needless to say, she couldn't focus on her work anymore, so, a half-hour later, when she saw that Cho and Rigsby had gone, she gathered her purse and keys, trying to conjure in her mind how good it would feel to take a long, hot bath and put on her own football jersey and sleep pants.

But as she drove home to her apartment, she found herself smiling in remembrance of the happy little moments she'd had with Jane at the West Wind. The silly granny gown. The sexy game of pool. The sexier time in the shower. And then, this morning in his bed, when she'd almost given herself to him as his strong arms enclosed her and the scent of his warm body nearly made her throw caution to the wind and…

She was back to annoyed again as she pulled into the driveway of the apartment complex, wondering how he could possibly leave her so…unsatisfied.

Halfway to her door, she paused, noticing a small, red gift bag hanging over her doorknob. She approached it with a cop's caution, reaching out gingerly to pick it up by the string handle. Unlocking her door with her other hand, she walked in, flipping on the light to get a better look at what was inside. She dumped the contents on the kitchen counter. A note fell out, along with a small wooden box and a DVD of _A Christmas Story. _She laughed out loud, because, of course, it could only be from one person. She picked up the folded note card and read:

_Teresa,_

_I would have asked you out tonight, but I knew you must be tired, and likely wanting to put on some different clothes after three days. Please keep these items on hand for what I'm sure will be a very hot date indeed._

_Yours,_

_Jane_

She smiled because he knew her so well. Sure, she would have liked to have spent the night with him tonight, but being the planner that she was, she would actually have wanted to be well rested and emotionally prepared when she welcomed him into her bed. And she hadn't had a chance to put on her best sheets, or buy a sexy little teddy, or stock the fridge for a cozy breakfast the morning after. And she would have needed candles-lots and lots of candles-to set the mood.

Her eye was suddenly drawn to the little box that had lain almost forgotten on the counter. It was made like a miniature shipping crate, with the word _Tea_ stamped onto the top. Curiously, she opened the hinged lid and promptly flushed a vivid scarlet, for it wasn't Jane's favorite tea inside, as she'd naturally expected, but several neat, individually wrapped…condoms. There was quite an assortment too—flavored, ribbed, lubed, colored, studded(?) and a few other features that she didn't quite recognize. Her embarrassment quickly gave way to helpless laughter, and she sat in a chair, wiping at eyes filled with mirth.

She reached into her pocket for her phone and speed-dialed Jane's number.

"Hello, Lisbon. Did you make it home okay?"

"Yes. And I was just looking forward to relaxing with a nice cup of tea…but alas, I have no one to share it with."

He chuckled softly, and the sensuality in his voice made her shiver and melt at the same time. "Well, relax tonight, Lisbon, for I plan to enjoy plenty of _tea_ with you in the very near future."

She laughed, and Jane felt it go through his ear, then up and down his spine.

"You realize that tea will always be a euphemism for me now," she told him. "Gives a whole new meaning to _tea for two."_

"And _all the tea in China."_

"Would you like a spot of tea, love?"

"Or some tea and sympathy?"

They were both laughing by then, and there grew a warm and happy silence between them.

"Lisbon?"

"Yes, Jane?"

"How tired are you really?"

She hesitated, not wanting to disappoint him, but suddenly enjoying the teasing, the build-up, the sweet torment of unfulfilled desire. She found that she wanted that feeling to last awhile.

"I'm pretty tired, Jane."

"Okay," he sighed, disappointed, but, like Lisbon, savoring the anticipation. "Because I could be there in twenty minutes—"

"Not tonight," she laughed, delighting in his eagerness. "Soon, though. _Very_ soon."

"Oh well. Guess I'll be having tea by myself again."

She smiled into the phone. "'Night, Jane."

"Goodnight, Lisbon."

THE END

A/N: I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude at my reception into this fandom! Thank you all so very much! So, due to your wonderful encouragement, I shall endeavor to embark upon a sequel. First, however, I would like to write an episode tag for "Jolly Red Elf," for I strongly feel we should have seen a lot more of drunk Jane and sober Lisbon. A great opportunity was lost, and I shall try my best to rectify that. My next full-length story, as yet untitled, will continue to develop Jisbon's new relationship, and I think that it might be interesting if Walter Mashburn came home a little early from his trip, don't you? Until then, thanks a million times for all your support and encouragement. See you soon!


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